


Elsewhere

by jennajuicebox



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2018-10-30 08:19:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 65,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10872858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennajuicebox/pseuds/jennajuicebox
Summary: Its been a year since Katniss Everdeen disappeared altering every life she touched. A new event sends the past and present crashing together and everyone is wondering, what happened to Katniss Everdeen? Modern AU. Multiple points of view. revised.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've been really unhappy with this story for a long time. I finally decided to completely re work it. It will be the same in a lot of ways, but I decided to go a different direction with it. I hope you all aren't too upset with me and I hope you enjoy =)

 

 

_ Prologue _

 

_December 14th, 2016_

_He sees her before he notices that it starts to snow. She comes out of the liquor store across the street, clutching something in her hands tightly. He wants to call out to her, ask her why she isn't wearing her jacket. He doesn't though, for a moment he just watches her standing in the halo of the streetlight, her head whipping back and forth like she is waiting for someone or something. She still has the long scrape of red flesh on her forehead from the accident. Her usual soft gate is slow, lilting as she limps out to the street._

_Behind her is a beautiful backdrop of pine trees, standing in a wall, already white with a light dusting of snow. For a moment he just watches as her braid falls over her shoulder as she looks up toward the sky, snowflakes catching in her dark hair and eyelashes._

_For a moment he wonders if the world is ending._

_That's what it feels like._

_He wants to go out into that street and comfort her, to curl her into his arms where he can protect her from all harm. He knows it isn't possible, for her the world has already ended. She's lost the last bit of home she had left, and what would he say?_

_She blinks slowly, once, twice. What does she see?Even with knowing her his whole life, she's a riddle to him. He can't ever seem to figure her out._

_He steps out into the snow, the movement catches her eye and her head jerks down to stare into his face. Her eyes remind him of smoke before a fire, translucent, wispy, darkening slowly. He takes a tentative step toward her, then another. Slowly, painfully, she steps backward, her eyes never leaving his._

_Its like he has a string tethered to him, pulling him away from the safety of his bed, the bakery, his home. He, helpless to stop it and her on the other side, yanking him towards an unknown. Those eyes of hers never leave his. Her fingers curl into fists at her sides._

_“Peeta.” She says in that husky voice of hers, but he's startled at the coldness there. Its like they're strangers again. “Peeta, don't.” Its barely a whisper and he can hardly hear it over the stillness of the snow. Her breathing is shallow, each one coming out as a silver puff of air._

_Does he dare whisper her name back?_

_“Please.” He says, coming to a stop in the middle of the road. She shakes her head as if warding away a bright light. “Katniss, why aren't you wearing a coat?” He is already removing his to wrap around her. If only he could reach her he could tuck her inside, take her back to the bakery, make her a hot chocolate and she'd be safe. If only she would stop backing away from him. Her legs are trembling and goosebumps have broken out along her arms and he isn't sure if its the cold or something else._

_“Its not that cold out.” She says evenly, her voice a little louder._

_“Katniss, what are you doing?” He asks._

_“Its none of your business.” She snaps, flexing her fingers around whatever she's holding in her hands._

_A bristling wind comes alive and hits his face like ice water. He holds out his jacket to her and she relents, reaching out and taking it, her eyes warily searching his face. That's when he knows the truth._

_She's running._

_“Katniss.”_

_Somehow she is always two steps ahead of him, and he is so clumsy he can't possibly catch up. She laughs humorlessly as she pulls the jacket over her thin t-shirt. She looks so tiny beneath it, like its swallowed her whole._

_“I wish everyone could just say it out loud.”_

_“Say what?” He asks, trying to keep her talking, if she's talking she can't run._

_“Say that I killed her!” She shouts._

_“You didn't-” He begins, his voice passionate. There are a few truths in this world he knows and one of them is Katniss Everdeen did not kill Primrose Everdeen._

_“Don't you dare lie to ME, Peeta Mellark!” She bellows, one lone tear dripping off her nose._

_“Katniss.” He says firmly. “It was an accident, anyone can see that.”_

_“Doesn't matter how.” She says quietly, like her anger has made her tired. “She's dead, and she'd still be alive if it wasn't for me.”_

_The space between them feels cavernous, like a sinkhole has erupted from the earth and left a dark, black pit between them. He knows he has a silver tongue, he can be so convincing when he needs to be. But that doesn't matter now, he can't reach her, can't convince her that this truth of hers is a lie._

_It feels like he is being ripped open by a great animal, being torn to shreds by claws, burned to a crisp from the inside out._

_“Please.” Its all he can get out, he looks down at his hands, red with cold._

_“Peeta, you need to go now.”_

_He shakes his head, not realizing he has started to cry._

_“Peeta, please.” She begs. He has always been the one to give her whatever she wanted. Only wanting her happiness he would move heaven and earth to obtain it. But could he do it this time? Even if it means removing himself from the picture? Could he ever be strong enough?_

_“Where are you going?” He asks._

_“If I told you, it would defeat the purpose, don't you think?” she tries to smile but it looks like she's baring her teeth at him._

_God, sometimes she could be so selfish. Its an arrant thought and it immediately leaves a hole of guilt in the pit of his stomach._

_“I'll go with you.” He says fiercely as she shakes her head. It makes him angry, for all they've been through, all he has seen, all she has survived, does she really think he'd let go of her so easily?_

_“I'll keep you here.” Headlights cut through the darkness and he moves to the side of the road, closer to her. She is careful to keep a distance between them, stepping backward as the silver truck stops in front of her._

_“Even if you could.” She says softly, for the first time reaching toward him and touching his cheek. Her hand is like ice against his numb cheek. “Why would you be so cruel?” she asks, another stray tear falling down her face. She brushes it away and tightens her jaw._

_“Katniss, please don't do this.” He pleads, reaching for her, grabbing the sleeve of his own jacket._

_“I'll have to owe you the jacket, I guess.” She says, staring at his fingers as they flex around her arm tighter._

_“Peeta.” Her voice is hard, absolute. “Let me go.” She commands._

_He was always helpless to her wants, he'd move heaven and earth to make her happy. Who was he to keep her here? His fingers reluctantly release her, the fabric slipping through his numb fingers. She climbs into the cab of the truck. He tries to see who is driving but shadows fall over the persons face, obscuring them from view._

_She gives him one last fleeting look before shutting the door and looking forward as if it is a great effort to do so. The truck sputters to life and wheezes down the road, and she doesn't look at him again._

_She is already gone by the time his voice comes. She can't hear him but he says it anyway, as if maybe his voice will carry on the wind and give her strength. As if the simple words could pass through time and space and hold her here with him for just a moment longer. They come out a broken whisper as he watches the taillights disappear around a bend._

_“I can't.”_

_But he knows its utterly useless. Katniss Everdeen can't hear him._


	2. Peeta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peeta doesn't know if she is dead or alive, if she is cold or if she is hungry or scared or maybe, finally, happy. But he does know that he misses her, the ghost or the girl, he isn't sure. But he misses the way she'd scowl at him from over the counter of the bakery. And he missed the way her braid would fall over her shoulder. And the way she would crinkle her nose whenever he would weasel a laugh from her. 
> 
> It makes his bones ache and his heart swell with pain.

_Katniss Everdeen peeks her face around her fathers legs. Her gray eyes piercing even in youth and her dark plaited into two neat braids is the same blue-black as a ravens wing. He stops playing with his toy cars and comes to stand at Jack Everdeens legs, curiously looking at the dark haired girl whose scowl penetrates him from the safety of her fathers stance._

_“Hi.” he says shyly, hoping to be rewarded by a smile. She just glares at him, a look that he will know well in the future, though, he has no way of knowing that now._

_“Katniss, don't be rude.” Her father says with a chuckle, pushing her out from behind his legs. She glares her disapproval at him, crossing her tiny arms over her chest in a serious way. “Say hello, sweetheart.”_

_“Hi.” She says, scooting back to the safety of her fathers legs._

_“I'm Peeta.” He tries again as Mr. Everdeen chuckles. His father has come around to the front with a blue cardboard box that contains a single layer cake he has been working on for the better part of two days._

_“Well, what do you think Jack?” His father says amiably, lifting the lid so Jack can examine the cake inside. He lifts Katniss up to his shoulders so she can see too. Together they look inside. Its a beautiful cake, covered in tiny pink rosettes._

_“I think Prim will love it, don't you pumpkin?” Jack says._

_“I guess, but she's just a baby.” Katniss says back, placing her chin atop her fathers head. He laughs heartily, his face worn as the leather jacket he wears and Katniss gives a small half smile that for some reason makes Peeta's heart stutter in his chest. “She won't really remember it.”_

_“I suppose your right, pumpkin, maybe we should return it now.”_

_“No,” she says, furrowing her little eyebrows. “I want to eat it.”_

_“Of course you do.” Jack says, tugging on her braid affectionately._

_They pay for their cake, then they're gone, just like that. Peeta stares at the door as his father chuckles knowingly._

_“That little girl.” His father says, picking Peeta up and placing him on the countertop. “I almost married her mother, did you know that?”_

_“Why didn't you?” Peeta asks meekly._

_“She ran off with a coal miner.” Peeta can't fathom anyone better than his father, after all he makes cupcakes._

_“Why would she do that when she could have you?” Peeta wonders._

_“Because, Son, when he sings, even the birds stop to listen.”_

_Peeta looks back toward the door, expecting to see little Katniss there, but she's gone._

XX.XX

 

December 14th, 2017

 

Peeta looks up from the order he's tallying and tucks his pencil behind his ear as the bell above the door jingles someone's arrival. It sends his heart skittering in his chest like his ribcage can't control it, like its an entity separate from him. He wonders if this feeling will ever ebb. If there will ever be a time that damned bell will jingle and he won't look up with wild eyes expecting her.

But it isn't her, of course it isn't.

A voice in the back of his head says she is never coming back. He swallows the lump in his throat and forces what hopefully looks like a smile.

“Hey, Madge.” He says and she looks up from the display case, her blonde hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. She must have just come from the studio, she's still dressed in her dance tights. She looks out of place in the empty store front, like a porcelain doll or an old movie star. He's grateful his mother is out and not here to see the Mayors daughter in her little bakery. She'd have an aneurism offering her free samples in the hopes Madge might grace their little store more often.

“Hi Peeta.” She says, her voice soft and lilting.

“What can I do for you?” He asks, leaning against the counter.

“I'll take a strawberry tart.” She says and he has to strain his ears to hear her.

“You got it, Princess.” He says with a smirk as she grimaces. She's had that nickname since kindergarten and he knows how much she loathes it. He takes his time lifting the small tart from its place behind the glass and placing it into the small blue cardboard box.

Madge looks uncomfortable, like she's shucking her skin. She paces the counter, tapping her fingers along the wood.

“Hows Gale?” He asks.

“Same as ever.” She says, picking at a napkin, her blue eyes locked on the counter, a wisp of silver-blonde hair falling into her face. Her fair eyebrows knit together tightly. He knows what she's going to say before she says it.

“I can't believe its been a year.” She says in a childlike whisper. “I feel like I just saw her yesterday.”

Peeta can feel a familiar pit opening up somewhere in his middle. His tongue goes dry and his hands clench into fists around the flimsy paper box. He knows how Madge is feeling, like she was just here, although, sometimes it feels like he never knew Katniss at all, like she was never really here. A figment of his imagination, An apparition, a ghost.

“Yeah, me either.” He says in a tight voice he doesn't feel escape him. He hands her the box and punches the buttons on the register.

“They're re-opening her case, did you hear.”

“No.” Peeta lies because its easier than admitting the truth, his whole life for the passed year has been Katniss Everdeen and sucking in every last word about her he could. Madge smiles at him. “But then I didn't know that they stopped looking.”

“They didn't, its just there is so little to go on.” She whispers, her voice trails off.

“Uh, you owe 6.50.” he says clearing his throat nervously.

“Peeta.” She says his name insistently. He doesn't look up from the register.

“Peeta.” She says more forcefully. He finally looks up and for a moment their eyes lock on each others. A long painful second is all he can stand, his eyes fall again and he's ashamed of it.

“I'm sorry, I know you really loved her.”

Its the first time anyone has ever said sorry to him, and why should they? His thumbnail runs along the grain of the wood. Then something funny happens to his chest, it grows tight and the tightness wheezes upward and spills from his mouth, in a hurried truth he has never spoken to anyone.

“Its okay, Madge, it never really mattered.”

She looks sad for a moment before handing him a few crisp bills from her wallet. She looks like she wants to say to say something but is fighting hard to refrain. She takes her box gingerly. “Thanks, Peeta. My mom loves these.”

He nods because he feels like he can't speak.

She's at the door, holding it open, letting in the cold air, and after a day by the ovens its a relief from the heat, or it would be if it didn't remind him of the night she left. The night he never dared speak to anyone about, not the police, not his father, certainly not his mother, and not even Madge. He turns away from the cold, so his back is turned when she says it.

“I don't think that's true.” She says to open door.

He twists around to look at her. “What?” He asks.

“That it didn't matter.” She says, turning to look him in the eye. “I think it did.”

He smiles at her, though it feels so forced it stings his cheeks. “Thanks, Princess.” He says, just to annoy her. To lighten the darkness that has suddenly filled the room.

She rolls her eyes but smiles faintly and disappears out the door and into the blizzard outside.

XX.XX

 

Twilight has come, and the snow shows no signs of slowing anytime soon. He stands at the mouth of the bakery, just like he did a year before, having trouble seeing through the thick layer of snow that glitters in stillness. The streetlamp that a year ago Katniss Everdeen stood under flickers then dies, the street grows dark, Peeta steps forward as if she would magically appear in the dark, smiling at him. Telling him this was all just a nightmare and he's safely wrapped in his blankets at home, snuggled against her, breathing in her scent of lavender and woodsmoke and something entirely her own, something he couldn't name.

Peeta watches as the light flickers to life again. He goes over that night again in his head, like he's done every night for the passed year. Squinting as if he could conjure her, as if he could make her appear out of thin air.

But everything remains silent.

Then he sees it, a stooped figure stepping out of the liquor store, the only store lit for miles. Neon lights flickering in front of advertisements for Coors Light yellowing with time. He watches as the man rests his hand on the smooth metal base of the lamp and looks around. His eyes lock with Peeta's for a moment. He doesn't say anything, he doesn't step forward, just watches Peeta with eyes sharp as a hawks.

Peeta takes an involuntary step backwards, back into the shadows and the man sputters and coughs wetly, the sound is jarring in the quiet. He pulls a piece of folded up paper from his jacket pocket and tapes it to the streetlamp then with one more long look at Peeta disappears around the corner, through the parking lot of the liquor store and out of sight.

Peeta waits a few breaths and when he sees a beat up El Camino pull out of the parking lot and down main street he makes a run for it. He stops in front of the paper and sucks in a deep breath of icy air.

He pulls a hand from his gloves and runs his fingers down the crisp, white paper, trying to smooth out the folds.

Its a flyer, an identical one hanging in almost every shop on main street. They litter telephone poles all over town. A picture of Katniss in a green blouse looks back at him. She's not smiling, but then she rarely did. Next to the photo are antiseptic type information, her height, weight, hair color, eye color. They don't say a single thing about her, not really, it lists her eyes as gray, as if they would ever be as common as a simple gray.

No, Peeta knows the truth, they were gray, yes but they had flex of green and could stare right through you. They could be as clear as water or as dark as smoke.

How could her skin simply be olive? No it was smooth as river rocks and soft and she had a spattering of freckles down her arms and across her upturned, pert nose.

No, she was so much more than this. And for a moment he wonders idly if he ever really knew her at all.

He pulls a pocket knife from his sock and tries to work the blood back into his stiff, shaking fingers.

Peeta doesn't know if she is dead or alive, if she is cold or if she is hungry or scared or maybe, finally, happy. But he does know that he misses her, the ghost or the girl, he isn't sure. But he misses the way she'd scowl at him from over the counter of the bakery. And he missed the way her braid would fall over her shoulder. And the way she would crinkle her nose whenever he would weasel a laugh from her.

It makes his bones ache and his heart swell with pain.

He finds a near by tree and begins to carve out crude words. Slowly, with pale fingers, and even though he's cold and so tired he doesn't stop until the words are done, staring him in the face. It might be a prayer, or a plea, or a demand, he isn't quite sure. All he know is its all he wants at the moment. Its the only thing keeping him from floating away completely.

The thought she might see it, read it, and for once listen to him.

After all, she always loved the trees.

The words hollowed out of the wood mock him, and his breath comes in slow and steady puffs as he steps back to examine his work.

Come Home.

XX.XX

Peeta drives slowly, the windshield wipers on his ancient honda working double time as he skates more than drives down the street. He finds an available parking spot two streets over from where he is headed and pulls to a stop, his car wheezing to a stop at the curb. He does his best to shield the cardboard box he is carrying from the sleet but he's scared some of the water has gotten in and soaked the bread, that was only mildly stale when he carefully packed it up.

Jessa Everdeens house is dark and a stark contrast to the houses around it that spill light. Its a simple clapboard house that hasn't been updated since the eighties. The front steps groan beneath his weight as he sets down the box, making sure it is out of the rain and knocks. There is no stirring from inside, no hint of life, no one comes to the door and after a moment Peeta turns on his heel and trudges back out into the snow.

He hopes the bread can offer Jessa a little comfort. He hopes because he feels like its the only thing he has left to offer the woman whose lost everything.

Thats why he ends up at a bar on Katniss's side of town. A sawdust on the floor type of place that plays music with twangy steel guitar and offers pool and cold beers. He orders a drink from Leevy, a girl his age and she sets it down in front of him and leaves him to his thoughts.

He hears some rowdy boys near the back but pays them no mind, far too interested in the beer in his hand. He's never cared for beer really, but wasn't sure what else the place offered and it was the first thing that popped into his head.

He takes a long drink of his beer, noticing how nice Leevy looks in her silver tank top and tight fitting black jeans. She smiles at him and something inside him melts just a little. He offers a half smile and looks up at the television in the corner, stuck on a football game that he can't here over the music. Its okay, he's never much cared for football either, and at least it gives him a reason to be here, and not at home.

“Well, Well, Well.” Peeta groans inwardly and swivels around on his bar stool. “Look who the cat drug in.” Gale Hawthorne says, each word clipped as if he is trying not to slur his words.

“Hey, Gale.” Peeta says warily.

“Mellark.” Gale says curtly, the group of men behind him look ready to grab Gale at a moments notice. Leevy seems to have noticed the heavy tension now blanketing the room, as cold as the snow outside, because she pipes up.

“Don't want any trouble in my bar Gale, you hear?” Her voice is commanding, no nonsense.

“Wouldn't dream of it, Miss Leevy.” Gale says, not taking his eyes off Peeta and their sleet shade tells Peeta he wants nothing more than trouble, and he won't stop until he gets it.

Gale steps forward as Peeta leans back, Peeta nonchalantly takes a swig of his beer and sets it gently down on the bar. “What are you doing here, Mellark?” Gale asks, his eyes burning holes in Peeta's skin.

“Just came for a drink, Gale.” Peeta says with his best attempt at a smile. This just seems to piss Gale off.

“In the Seam?” He says, anger edging into his voice. Peeta tries to remember what Gale used to be like before, how they were all friends for a little while. How for a time Peeta would have done anything for Gale.

But the truth is there was always a Katniss shaped hole between the two of them. One that is gaping and hollow now. Gale blames Peeta, and Peeta doesn't mind. Peeta blames himself too.

“Yeah Gale, In the Seam.” Peeta doesn't want to turn his back on Gale, but he does want to diffuse this growing situation without the police. All he needs is for his mother to be informed that he was in a bar fight, in the seam of all places, that would go over real well.

“Ain't your kind of place.” Gale seethes.

“What is my kind of place, Gale? Please enlighten me?” Peeta can't help but smirk a little.

“One of those clubs downtown maybe, or are you tired of rich girls? Had your fill of them and come to slum it, huh? Again.”

Something hot and violent rips through Peeta and before he realizes it he's standing, his fist has gathered a good portion of Gale's shirt and he's shoved him against the wall so hard Gale has hit his head against the wood paneling with a sickening crack.

“How dare you talk about her like that.” Peeta meant to shout it but it comes out deathly low and cold. Before Peeta can move Gale takes a swing and catches him in the ribs. Peeta rocks backward for an instant, stars exploding behind his eyes. Then as if someone else is doing it, sees his fist connect with Gale's nose. Gale stumbles a little and clutches his nose, red seeping through his fingers. Leevy hops over the bar, a mag light in her hand.

“Peeta, that's enough!” She wedges her way between the two men, shoving them apart. “I think its time you payed for you drinks and went on your way Gale Hawthorne.”

Peeta stands there panting, looking blankly at Gale being drug away by his friends as he screams curses at Peeta. Peeta shakes his head.

“Nah, Leev, it's fine, I was leaving anyway.” He throws down some bills on the bar next to his half drunk beer. He tries to smile at her and as he grabs his jacket her hand catches his wrist.

“Its on me.” She says trying to hand him his money back.

“I couldn't Leevy.” he says, shoving her hand away from his as if its burned him.

“Please,” she says. “Its the least I can do.”

Peeta feels his eyebrows scrunch. “For what?” he asks, anger beginning to score his voice.

She looks down on her feet. “For her.” Is all she says.

It takes all of his effort to keep his voice even. “If that's the case, put my money on Gale's tab. He's going to feel this one in the morning, huh?” He tries to keep it light, joking. Truth is he kind of wants to cry. She nods in response.

He gives Gale Hawthorne a long fleeting look before disappear out into the snow. He barely makes it to the car before losing it. He kicks the tires, slams his hand into the car door, kicks out at the car again and when he can't kick or hit anymore he screams his dissent to the sky.

And all the sky has to offer is silent indifference.

Just like always.

 

XX.XX

 

_Its the first day of kindergarten and Peeta doesn't know a soul apart from Katniss, who is very much absorbed in her coloring book, being very careful to stay in the lines. Peeta Sits two tables back from her, watching the back of her head wondering what the best way to say hello might be. He never gets the chance though because the teacher has come back into the room and announced it was time for music._

_All the children form a line as the teacher asks who knows the valley song. He knows it but falters, unsure of himself, but her arm shoots straight up, and the teacher puts her up on a stool. Her red plaid dress matches the red ribbon in her hair. She starts to sing._

_The world falls silent._

_He sucks in a breath and strains his ears to listen for the birds that were chattering outside just moments ago._

_Its useless as he thought it would be._

_They wouldn't dare compete with her._


	3. Haymitch.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I fucking know that.” She snarls, finally looking at him. In her hard, honest stare he sees all the things she has never said. He sees that day all over again. The panic, the fear and finally the brokenness. “I'm not an idiot, I know she's gone, I just-” She shuts her eyes like she is warding off a head. “I just like to think she's elsewhere, and that maybe, she'll be back soon. I know it isn't real but it helps sometimes.”
> 
> Elsewhere.
> 
> Sounds like it could be a nice place.

_June 18th 2000._

_The air in the car is stale, stifling and humid but Haymitch barely notices as he swerves into the wrong lane as he takes the hairpin turn a little too sharply. He pulls the steering wheel only to slam on the breaks at the scene laid out before him like a feast, a veritable cornucopia of pain._

_Police cruisers with there red and blue lights flashing. Yellow tape tied around trees warns people,Crime scene! A few people have pulled to the side of the road to gawk and it takes all of Haymitch's control not to veer into them. It would serve them right, deriving some sick entertainment out of someone's pain. His families pain, His pain._

_He's yanked off his seat belt before his car comes to a full stop in the middle of the road. He's yanked open the heavy metal door and is halfway to the small patch of weeds and trees that the police men circle._

_“Haymitch.” Says one of the uniforms, moving to block Haymitch's view, which Haymitch cannot allow. “I told you not to come here.”_

_“Get the fuck out of my way, Chaff.” Haymitch demands, shoving the man out of his way. When he first heard he had known it was her. It could only be his Emma, and he had to see her, whatever shape she might be in. He had to hold her and let her know that daddy was there, even if it was too late. Daddy found her and he was going to bring her home._

_“Haymitch.” The man implores. “You don't want to see that.”_

_This stops Haymitch in his tracks, mulling over the mans words, feeling a hot, spitting, vile thing creeping into his chest._

_“That.” Haymitch chews on the word. “That.” He says again. The man looks flustered and sorry and not at all prepared for the situation he has found himself in. After all, its not everyday your commanding officers daughter is found, discarded like garbage in the woods._

_“That, is my daughter.” Haymitch practically spits in his face, shoving the man out of his way. The man doesn't call after Haymitch, he doesn't chase him down, just stands defeated at the edge of the weeds, among the old beer cans and fast food wrappers that litter the side of the road, watching helplessly after him._

_Haymitch tried to prepare himself for the worst, he knew she wasn't alive, the code that went over the scanner said that much. He tried to work himself up, prepared for gore and blood and any manner of violence. He didn't prepare himself for how tiny she would look, curled among the weeds and dandelions that dot the field. Her dark hair spilling in the dirt. How she looked to be sleeping, her eyes shut peacefully, her lips slightly parted. He looked for the rise and fall of her chest that signified sleep. Like he often did after long nights in the precinct and he would check in on her late at night. Of course, she is utterly still, her face turned toward him. A splatter of mud on her shirt._

_Yes, she could be sleeping, if it wasn't for the small trickle of blood that drips from her lips._

_Haymitch doesn't feel himself fall, but somehow he ends up on the ground. And the howl that permeates the quiet, summers day sounds so far away, it couldn't possibly be him. All around him uniforms are removing their hats, even a few have watery eyes. He can't really see them, all he sees is the tiny pink balls on the hair tie that’s wrapped around her wrist. She had been wearing it in her hair the last morning he saw her. When she kissed his cheek._

_“Love you, Emmaline.” He said as her chubby little arms wrapped around his neck._

_“Love you, Daddy.” She whispered in his ear._

_He wants to rage, break open this cloudless blue sky and rain down all of his pain and fury on everyone. He wants to crash into and beat the earth and scream at the sky, spit in the dirt and tear at his shirt, gouge his eyes, claw at his flesh._

_Why her?_

_Why?_

_But he remains motionless, his fingers locked in the dirt, his eyes unblinking, but not really seeing. The world around him could be falling into cataclysm and he wouldn't care a bit. What good is a world without sweet Emmaline's laugh? The soft hum of her honey voice._

_He has seen so many horrible things and he had always worried for her. So many things could happen to children in this world. There are so many hate filled, empty people waiting like wolves in the shadows to take away somebody's happiness. What chance did she ever have? He wonders somewhat idly if this might be his punishment, for bringing a daughter into a world, filled with violent men._

 

XX.XX

 

December 20th, 2017

 

Haymitch taps his fingers against the fake wooden paneling of the table in the middle of the interrogation room. Every corner of the room is covered in a light layer of grime and the lightening makes it worse, the flickering hanging lamp in the middle of the room casts off a yellowed light that makes odd shadows that move. It makes the place seem bleaker, danker.

And the girl across from him seems so out of place its almost comical. Her dress matches her skin, clean, pale, silken. Her large blue owl eyes watch him from beneath a strand of silver-blond hair that shimmers, even in the shadows. She looks ethereal, otherworldly, even.

“Where's Darius?” The girl says, not at all meekly. She doesn't seem afraid of him or intimadated in the least. Something about her sets him on edge, like he's seen her somewhere, only from far away. There is a name on the tip of his tongue, but its so old it couldn't be possible.

“He's still around.” Haymitch says leaning back in his chair.

“Who are you?”

“I'm the cop, I'm suppose to be asking you the questions, Miss-” He almost blurts out the other name but doesn't. He glances down at the paper in front of him, clearing his throat.

 

“Undersee.” She snaps before he can open his mouth. She crosses her legs and shifts her bag on her shoulder. Haymitch smiles at her in what he hopes is a disarming way.

“Yes, Miss Undersee. Well, I've taken over the case from Darius. Just moved back from Chicago.”

“Back?”

He clears his throat uncomfortably, shifting in his seat. “Yeah, I was born and raised here.”

“Why the hell would you ever come back here?”She asks and though her voice is sarcastic, her pale eyes seem sincere.

His hand stills around the paper cup of lukewarm coffee that he brought with him. An answer is on the edge of his tongue, He just swigs his coffee and the vodka he slipped in there this morning bites his throat and it takes all of his effort not to cough.

“Needed a change of scenery.”

There is the understatement of the year.

“We aren't here to talk about me, kid.” He snaps, pressing the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

“Fine.” She says amiably. “I assume I'm not here for my sparkling personality, so lets get to it.” She leans back in her chair and smiles at him. It stops his heart for a moment. He knows that smile.

“You a Donner. Girl?” It sounds like someone else asking, not him.

“My mother.” She says simply.

“Right.” He nods and clears his throat.

“Katniss Everdeen?”

“She was my friend.”

“Anyone you can think of that would hurt her?” He asks.

She's quiet for a long moment, her eyebrows furrowing. “No.” She says finally.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” She says more confidently.

“How bout boyfriends?”

“I thought we've already covered this?” She asks, not in a waspish way, but in a world weary kind of way.

“Just trying to go over everything again, Miss Undersee, I'm new to the case. I want to go through and interview everyone again, see if I find anything anyone else might have missed.” His patience is wearing thin, and worse, his hands are starting to shake, a jittery want nestling itself inside of his chest. “Now, Boyfriends.” He says sternly.

“Peeta Mellark.” She gets out before he can finish. He opens the thin file folder in front of it and scans it. Tapping his pen on the stack of papers in front of him. The name is at the top of the list in Darius's chicken scratch handwriting.

“They an item a long time?” Haymitch asks.

“They've been friends since kindergarten, but they only started dating junior year of high school.”

“Can you think of any reason Peeta Mellark might have to hurt Miss Everdeen?”

Madge scoffs loudly. “Peeta would never hurt Katniss.” She shrugs her shoulders. “Peeta loved Katniss.”

Its Haymitch's turn to scoff. “People hurt the one's they love Miss Undersee.” Her eyes are wan as water for a moment before she slumps against her chair, looking at the wall.

“How about friends?”

“What?” She startles, as if she was far away for a moment.

“Besides you and Mr Mellark? She have any friends?”

Her eyes grow far away, two twin moons in a distant galaxy. “Gale Hawthorne, Leevy Andersen.”

He finds the names on his paper, in different handwriting, a few notes about each. Gale Hawthorne peaks his interest. Hot-head someone has scrawled. Dislike for authority, writes someone else.

“You know the wearabouts of Mr Hawthorne?”

Her eyes immediately darken. “Suppose I do.” She says tartly, her words clipped, careful, measured.

“Did I hit a nerve?” He asks.

“Not at all.” Her face is a cool mask.

He isn't really listening, he's reading, something he has grown good at the last twenty five years on the force. He's taking in each name slowly, chewing it over in his mind. He pulls a picture of Katniss Everdeen from where it is tucked under a paperclip. Two silver eyes stare up at him along with a scowl. He could see why she didn't have many friends, she looks like a real charmer.

But it isn't that scowl, or even her eyes that get him, its the braid. A simple braid, falling over her shoulder. His wife used to braid Emma's hair at night while it was wet, so it would cascade in loose curls down her back when she left for school.

“Are we done?” She snaps in front of his face to get his attention.

“What, um.” He looks up at the clock. Its been an hour since they entered this room that would make David Fincher jealous. “Sure Miss Undersee, I'll be in touch.” He doesn't look up at her as she crosses the room. He's still looking at the picture, narrowing his eyes at the girl that glares up at him.

“One more thing, Miss Undersee?” He says quickly. “Did she have a favorite place?”

“What?” Madge asks, looking taken back, her hand still stuck on the doorknob.

“A favorite place, did she have one?”

Madge looks thoughtful, then smiles wide, her whole face brightening. “Kennedy Lake, the one off route 12.”

“I know it.” Haymitch says softly.

A few moments after the door clicks shut Darius enters with a fresh cup of coffee, Haymitch takes it gratefully, but has forgotten that most of the coffee he's drunk in the last seventeen years has had a nip of some sort of liquor. He coughs in surprise when it doesn't burn down his throat. “Shit.” he says as his shaking hands spill the coffee on his tie.

“You alright?” Darius asks, eyeing him curiously.

“Yeah.” He wheezes quickly, wiping off a drop of coffee that has gotten on the corner of the picture.

“You'd think they would have gotten a nicer picture for the flyer, huh?” Haymitch says, tilting the photo in the light.

“They're all like that.” Darius shrugs. “I guess Kat didn't care for photographs.”

“Did you know her?” Haymitch asks.

“You know how it is, everybody knows everybody around here.” Darius takes a drink of his own coffee filled with so much sugar and cream it is nearly white.

“How was the media coverage for her?” Haymitch wonders aloud, already knowing the answer.

“Her skin ain't the right color.” Darius snorts back at him. “A few pieces locally, but nothing compared to other girls.” Its a hard truth, but Katniss doesn't have the right look for the press. Her skin is too dark, her teeth overlap slightly, her eyes are small and slanted. She comes from the slum of a reservation at the edge of a nowhere town. No one really cares if she is lost, or found for that matter.

Haymitch nods thoughtfully. “I got a guy, I'll make some calls.” Darius looks somewhat amused.

“I want to bring everyone back in.” Haymitch says. “Start with Mr. Mellark, lets see what he has to say for himself.”

“Honestly, Sir, what do you think your going to find? Everybody knows she ran off after her sister died.”

“Darius, she has a mother.” Haymitch says. “A mother that deserves to know what happened to her.”

“Ain't much of a mother.” Darius says.

“Still.” Haymitch takes the picture of Katniss and slips it into his wallet in the growing of faded photos tucked neatly in his wallet, carefully collected for years. “Good or not, she'll get her answer.” He points at Darius. “Get them all in here. I want to know exactly what happened that night.”

“Its been a year.” Darius says and his voice comes out hopeless.

“That's a year too long.” Haymitch says, yanking open the door. “After all, its not like she vanished off the face of the earth.” he pauses, his mind on a different girl on a different day. “She's just elsewhere.”

 

XX.XX

 

_August 12th, 2001._

_Haymitch hands her the red roses he picked out from the grocery store on the way home. It is their anniversary, after all, but she just looks at them without seeing, her green eyes dull and her raven hair falls flat into her face. Its been over a year and the doctors say she just needs more time to process the death of her child._

_Haymitch knows that is bullshit, she'll never process it. She might remain this skeleton woman that sits in the hardback chair in the kitchen clutching a worn out teddy bear forever. Her eyes far off , unseeing pools that look out the window, waiting for a child that will never come home._

_And the house swallows her tiny frame, the sadness that hangs in the dark corners like cobwebs threatens to suffocate them like smoke. Like the questions that buzz in Haymitch's head when sleep won't come._

_Did she call out for him? Was her last word please?_

_The therapist says these questions are pointless, they have no answers, just spin in circles uselessly around your head until your mind turns brittle. But what did that therapist know?_

_“I was thinking we should sell the house.” He broaches the subject carefully. The last time he suggested it she threw a dinner plate at his head. It was the most reaction he had gotten from her since the funeral._

_“Why?” Caroline responds in a raspy voice. Its the first time she's spoken to him all week._

_“Why_ _would we stay here?” Haymitch counters. “All of her things are here, everyone around here talks.”_

_“I don't give a fuck what the neighbors think, Mitch.” She spits, hugging the stuffed animal to her stomach. She hasn't looked at him once since he's entered the room. He wants to kiss her, or shake her, anything to get her to look at him just once more, with those beautiful eyes._

_“Still, a change might be nice.” He tries weakly._

_“Fuck change.” She says but her tone is flat, her voice hollow._

_“I was thinking San Diego, you really liked it there when we went.” He tries to smile at her. “Some sun might do you good.” She's grown so drawn, so white, dark bruises have made a permanent home out of the underbelly of her eyes. She looks so tired all of the time._

_She just shrugs, continues her staring out the window. “She might come home someday.” She says slowly, her voice hanging in every corner of the room. Sometimes she says that and it always takes Haymitch by surprise. His wife's sweet little lie she tells herself. It isn't healthy but sometimes he doesn't correct her, because he wants it to be true with all his heart. He can't allow it anymore, his wife is dying right in front of him, slowly, painfully, and she's doing it to herself._

_“Carol, she's dead.” Haymitch says softly._

_“I fucking know that.” She snarls, finally looking at him. In her hard, honest stare he sees all the things she has never said. He sees that day all over again. The panic, the fear and finally the brokenness. “I'm not an idiot, I know she's gone, I just-” She shuts her eyes like she is warding off a head. “I just like to think she's elsewhere, and that maybe, she'll be back soon. I know it isn't real but it helps sometimes.”_

_Elsewhere._

_Sounds like it could be a nice place._


	4. Madge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the kind comments and kudos, they mean the world to me! Anyway, I hope you enjoy the next installment. The chapters will get longer as time progresses on, really I am just trying to get a feel for the characters out there before the real fun begins. Come say hi to me on tumblr, I'm everafter37

 

_Its a bitter winters day, cold and a drab gray as Madge wraps her winters coat tighter around her tiny shoulders. She feels small in the crowd, as if it has swallowed her whole and she sits in the stomach of a sad, empty whale._

_She watches her father rise from his chair on stage and move soundlessly to the podium. His head hangs and his shoulders are stooped as he takes in the group of children standing in a huddled mass to the right of him. He pauses as if he is going to say something to them but he doesn't, just keeps up his shuffling walk, a sad one man parade._

_Peeta Mellark pushes his way through the crowd and comes to stand next to her. He doesn't look at her, his eyes are locked on Katniss, who stands near the back of the mass of children, her hand locked with her little sisters._

_Her father drones on, but Madge is watching a boy that even at thirteen, stands taller than the rest. His back is ram-rod straight and eyes stare out at the crowd, steely gray and sharp as a knife. She finds herself inching forward to get a better look at him._

_“I wish there was something I could do for her.” Peeta says softly under his breath._

_Madge sighs and turns her attention back to Peeta. “Me too.” She says, pressing her hand into his elbow._

_“Her Mom isn't here.” He says, his blue eyes scanning the crowd._

_“She had a melt down at the funeral.” Madge says._

_“I heard.” Peeta says quietly._

_An uncertainty hangs between them as they contemplate, together, but miles away from each other. “Poor Katniss.” Madge finally says._

_“Mr. Everdeen was always really nice to me.” Peeta muses quietly, kicking the toe of his boot into the ground, a few pebbles scatter and the people around them turn and look at them. Peeta turns a shade of pink and grows quiet._

_The crowd shifts as Madge's dad announces Katniss, whose dressed in a black dress a size too small and no jacket, even though its bitterly cold. Katniss unlatches her hand from Prim's and begins a slow march toward the podium. Prim lets out a small whimper and the crowd sighs to themselves. Katniss turns and says something to her sister, who runs to catch up, grabbing at her big sisters hand. She sniffs at the crowd and buries her head in Katniss's side._

_Katniss reaches the balsa wood podium and takes her time adjusting the microphone. She clears her throat and begins to sing without preamble. Madge hears Peeta suck in a breath and it takes everything Madge has to swallow her small smile._

_Amazing Grace. Not exactly a creative choice, but Katniss has a husky, clear voice that makes it sound otherworldly. The crowd grows quiet as people crane their necks to catch a glimpse of the little girl singing, the one with the blank face and the eyes that stare down at microphone and refuse to look up._

_Prim is looking up at her sister with watery eyes, clutching her around her middle tightly as if Katniss will take flight and disappear at the slightest change in the wind. But what catches Madge the most is the tall boy with the dark hair falling into his face, watching Katniss as if she curious bird._

_The song ends and everyone claps and Madge knows it doesn't matter to Katniss. Her dad is still dead, still buried deep within the earth, unreachable to her._

_Medals are passed out, tears are shed and all too soon the town is dispersing, back to their shops or homes, Madge and Peeta stand waiting on the sidewalk in the cold air. Soon Katniss comes around the corner, her dark hair falling into her face, red with cold. Prim is in her arms, sobbing against her neck._

_“Katniss.” Peeta breathes and Katniss gives him a hard look. Madge swears the two of them have a language all their own, that they can communicate just in glances and smirks. On any other day it might be comical._

_Peeta moves closer to Katniss, his hand reaches out to touch her elbow but something in Katniss's look makes him pause. He clears his throat instead and tries to smile at Prim._

_“My dad just made raspberry danishes.” He says conversationally, and Prim perks, wiping her nose on her sleeve. “They should still be warm.” Peeta says with a soft smile._

_“Really?” Prim asks with tears still in her voice, clutching the little blue box they handed Katniss only minutes ago._

_“Yeah, would you like one?” Peeta asks._

_Prim nods. Katniss frowns._

_“We don't have money for a danish, Prim.” Katniss glares at Peeta._

_“Who said anything about money?” Peeta asks. Prim looks at Katniss hopefully._

_“Yeah, that'll make your Mom real happy.” Katniss mutters under her breath._

_“Oh come on, Katniss.” Madge finally pipes up. “I could use a cup of hot chocolate anyway.” She grabs Katniss by the elbow as Peeta takes Prim from her, wrapping her in the warmth of his coat, Prim whimpers gratefully. Madge drags Katniss down the street and when they reach the cheerful bakery front they see that the storefront is already packed with people trying to escape the coldest January day in memory._

_“I don't know, Peeta.” Katniss says, stalling near the door, backing away from it as if it might bite her._

_“They're all going to say their sorry.” Katniss blurts in a no nonsense way. “What do I even say to them?”_

_“Its okay, Katniss.” Peeta says, gripping Prim tighter and smiling at her reassuringly. “Let me do the talking.”_

 

XX.XX

 

Madge twists and turns and Pirouettes until she falls to the ground in a heap of sweaty skin and tights, standing up on shaky legs, she twirls until she has no other choice but to fall again. She lays on the cool floor staring up that ceiling, blank and white.

“What are you doing down there?” A voice says and she startles, jumping up. She has been the only one here for hours and she is grateful, no one to see her fall miserably on her ass time and time again.

“I was just-” she lets her voice trail off, not entirely sure what to say. “Dancing.” She says weakly.

He smiles and her heart stutters in his chest. Any girl in town would say he was handsome, but to Madge its something else. Its the way he moves, lithe and quiet despite being well over six foot. Its how his hands are gentle but calloused and the way he doesn't ask her questions she can't answer about a woman she's never met. No, to Gale she isn't a Donner, she isn't the mayors daughter, she's just Madge.

Madge stands and puts her hands on her hips, Gale looks much the same as when she left him yesterday, except the deep bruises under each eye and the blood crusted at the corner of his nose. “Gale?” she asks. “What the fuck happened to your nose?”

“What?” Gale asks as if just realizing he hasn't told her something important. “Oh, I may have gotten into a fight last night.”

“With who?” Madge says, reaching out and wiping away the blood off his nose.

“Ow, fuck Madge.”

“Sorry.” She says as he hands her bottle of water.

“Peeta.” Gale says quickly.

“Peeta?” It take Madge a moment to place the name, simply because it is so ludicrous. “Peeta Mellark?” She says incredulously.

“You know another one?” Gale bites out.

“What'd you do?” Madge snaps, trying to picture Peeta punching anyone. She's known him since they could toddle and has only known him as a gentle boy. One who collects strays and paints.

“Why is this MY fault?” Gale snaps back.

“Sorry.” Madge says, not feeling as sorry as she should. “So why did Peeta punch you?”

“It may have been my fault.” Gale says sheepishly, sitting limply on the floor, leaning against a mirrored wall.

“What happened?”

“What do you think?” Gale says. His face falls into his hands and for a moment he looks hopelessly broken. “Every time I see him it's like the first day all over again.” He laughs but it comes out as a bitter noise that clings in every nook of the room. “Its like, I think I am finally getting better and then he pops up and the wound re-opens.”

Madge knows the feeling, she nods, a wisp of hair falling into her face. What he says next is like a punch in the chest. It breaks her open and steals all the air from her chest.

“I loved her so much.” He swallows and looks at the floor.

“I know.” Madge says softly, grasping his hand, knowing its not the one he wants. Its the truth, she knows that he loved Katniss more than he ever loved her. She knows she is a second place prize to Gale. She knows that in those early morning hours he comes home, smelling of whiskey and coal dust and crawls beneath his sheets and presses dry kisses to her neck, it isn't her that he is thinking of.

She squeezes his hand and fights the urge to cry. She tries to tell herself that this is normal, she is a normal girl with a normal boyfriend, but its useless, nothing about them has ever been normal. His head leans down and hangs heavy on her shoulder.

“Will you sing to me?” He asks.

“Sure.” She says and she does, off key and absolutely terrible but his eyes shut tightly as if he is trying to conjure an image into his head.

“Davey White? Where is he tonight?  
He's sleeping with her in Tennessee town and he's fine.  
I think I lost my mind.  
In my wasted time  
I am dreaming alone in a hotel bed that he is mine.”

As she sings she feels her heart break apart and mend itself into something hard and calloused and cold. Is a second hand love still love? Could she ever match up to the ghost of a girl, gone but standing between them just the same. And when the song has ended and her wobbly voice grows quiet he squeezes her fingers tenderly.

“Thanks.” He says softly and she says nothing for fear her voice will break. She knows he misses Katniss, and it isn't fair of her, but for a moment she is so jealous of the girl she could scream. Then she is ashamed, because she loves Katniss too.

 

XX.XX

She drives home with the windows open even though its so cold her face is numb. Her fingers grip the steering wheel with bloodless fervor and tears pouring down her face, until it becomes to much and she has to pull over to the side of the road as heaving sobs wrack her body. She presses her hands against her mouth in a effort to keep them locked inside.

It doesn't matter how many songs she sings, how horrible her voice is. It doesn't matter one bit, because its not her voice he's hearing.

Slowly the fever that escapes her recedes and she wipes her face and takes in a few deep, breaths, letting the cold wind wash over her, until her splotchy skin has returned to normal and her tears have dried to salt on her skin. She puts her car into drive and inches out onto the road.

XX.XX

 

The house is silent, dark, still and cold. Madge drops her bag on a table in the foyer as Elisabeth comes down the stairs, looking flustered, her uniform rumpled and dust smudging her cheek.

“Hey Liz.” Madge says, not really seeing her.

“Miss Madge.” The woman says curtly. “It isn't a good day.” the woman says briskly. She's been their maid since Madge was a child, more of a mother to her than the woman that sleeps upstairs.

“One of her headaches?” Madge asks, running her fingers along the baby grand piano that sits freshly dusted in foyer. The one she plays for her fathers friends when they come for dinner.

“Yes, Miss Madge.” The woman says, “Been calling for her sister all day.”

Sometimes her mother forgets, forgets her twin is dead. It usually falls to Madge to make her remember again. A daunting task that often takes hours of convincing, which would be easier if Madge had a different face.

“I'll go talk to her Elisabeth, why don't you make yourself some lunch.” Madge tries to smile but fears it looks too forced, too big for her face.

“Shall I make you something too?” Elisabeth asks.

“No, Liz, I'm not hungry.” And Madge breezes past the woman, up the stairs to a room that sits dusty and cold at the end of the hallway. Madge knocks softly but doesn't wait for an answer before opening the door.

Her mother is under a pile of blankets, her hair, once bright blonde now sits in a dull, gray pile atop her head. She stares out the window as if waiting for someone.

“Hey, Mama.” Madge says, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Mazzy?” Her mother asks, turning toward Madge. Madge sighs, she should be used to it by now.

“No, Mama, its me, just Madge.” She forces herself to smile, when she just feels tired. A choking, cloying fear climbing up her throat. Will she ever be just Madge?

“Madge, right.” Her mother says, sounding disappointed. “How was your day, dear?” Madge doesn't bother answering because her mother is already far away, her lank eyes already staring out the window.

Madge just crawls beneath the sour sheets, smelling like unwashed body and warm with her mothers heat.

Her mother leans into her and Madge brushes her hair back. Wanting nothing more than for her mother to look at her and see her, not the dead woman.

Her mother leans her head onto Madge's shoulder. “I'm so tired dear.” She whispers. “My headaches have been getting the best of me lately.” Madge looks around and the paintings that line the wall. Her mother painted them once upon a time, now they're just dusty and sad.

“Its alright.” Madge says, leaning forward and planting a kiss on her mothers cool forehead. “Take a nap, when you wake up you'll feel better.”

“I love you.” Her mother says faintly, already on the lip of sleep.

“I love you too, Mama.” Madge says, staring at the ceiling as if the answers could be found there. As if a bright neon sign will fall from the sky, with blinking letters that tell her exactly what to do and who to be.

Because its pretty clear. Madge Undersee simply isn't enough.

XX.XX

_December 15th, 2016._

_Her father is gone, at some function that keeps him away from the ghost moaning upstairs. The one Madge can hear screaming for her sister. Tonight she has even Elisabeth, who has the patience of a saint, in fine form. Madge settles in on the couch, beneath an expensive blanket she has worn to a rag and a bowl of popcorn on her knee. Madge is long overdue for a quiet night as is looking forward to falling asleep in front of whatever the television has to offer._

_A knock on the door sends her mother howling and Elisabeth races out of the kitchen, cursing under her breath, looking torn between answering the door and tending to the woman upstairs._

_“Its alright, Liz.” Madge says, standing and stretching out her stiff muscles. “I'll answer the door.”_

_Elisabeth nods and is racing up the stairs, already shushing and cooing. Madge pulls open the heavy oak door, seeing the very last person she'd expect on her doorstep. Her heart stutters in her chest._

_“Gale Hawthorne?” He's standing with his hands in his pockets, snowflakes caught in his dark hair. He doesn't look at her, but his boots, which have been worn to bits. His feet must be freezing! What on earth has him coming all the way across town? She shakes herself and moves out of his way. “Please, come in.”_

_He does, standing awkwardly in the foyer. Staring at the chandelier with contempt, she doesn't like it, it looks sour on his face. “Can I get you some tea? Coffee?” Something bangs into the floor upstairs and Madge looks up uncertainly._

_“She's gone.” He blurts._

_“Who?” She feels her face contort in confusion._

_“Katniss.” Gale says. “Her mother filed a missing persons report, they think she ran off.” Madge feels something already hollowing out._

_“Katniss wouldn't just run off.” Madge says, “She'd tell someone.” Madge says with conviction and can't help but wince at the next words that slip from between her lips. Still she can't stop them. “She'd tell Peeta.” Gale's face hardens for the briefest of moments._

_“So, you haven't seen her?” He demands as if Madge is keeping Katniss locked in her attic. Madge feels herself stiffen as if he flat out accused her of kidnapping the girl._

_“Not for a few days, why have YOU seen her?”_

_“Of course not.” Gale snaps, “not since that night.” They stand there, both have eyes locked on each other with wary eyes._

_“I thought maybe she'd be here.” He finally says stiffly. “Maybe wanted to get away from the seam for a while.”_

_“I'm sorry, Gale, she isn't here.” His face falls. “How did you even get here?” She asks._

_“My bike.” He says, gesturing toward the shut door. Right, that motorcycle he's racing around all the time._

_“Its freezing out there, and a twenty minute drive.” Madge says firmly. “Come have some tea.”_

_He shakes his head, moving toward the door. “I wouldn't want to intrude on whatever you rich people do, I'll head back home.”_

_This for some reason rubs Madge the wrong way, she finds herself snapping at him, when she means to be nonchalant. “I said to come have some tea, why do you have to be so stubborn Gale Hawthorne!”_

_He narrows his eyes and says nothing for a long moment, but follows her. And as he fills her in on details as the tea brews she finds her eyes caught on his hands that move with his mouth as he talks. The way he blinks, the worn leather of his jacket._

_He smells like leather, woodsmoke, gasoline and oranges for some reason and its an intoxicating weave of scents. It reminds her of a full home, not like this empty one that's too big to hold the broken family that resides inside of it._

_She hands him a steaming mug and warns him of the heat. For a moment their eyes lock and she feels something stab down her spine and p.rickle to life, setting her skin on fire. For the first time in her twenty years, Madge Undersee feels like someone is actually looking at her and she'd give anything to hold onto it, even if its just for a moment_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song that Madge sings is "He's Fine." by the Secret sisters. Up next is Peeta!


	5. Peeta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Katniss.” He whispers, his hand jutting out from the hollow and catching a few snowflakes in his palm. He acts as if his voice can cross the valleys and mountains, across time and space, rivers and deserts to wherever she is hidden, dead or alive. He wills it to find her wherever she might be, and bring her home, no matter what state she might be. She may just be bones in the dirt but he would collect them up and hold them together as if the act of love alone could be enough to bring her back to life.

_Its still early, the golden morning sun catching on the frost and making everything glitter like diamonds. Peeta tries to focus on the dough he's kneading but it keeps catching his eyes until his mother gets frustrated and tells him to go up front._

_His father is at the register so he focuses on filling the display case with bear claws. He just happens to glance up at the large store window to see Katniss standing in the sunlight with Prim in tow. His hands are full so he gives her a smile as she steps forward and presses her nose against the glass, pulling a face._

_He is happy his mother isn't up here to see, because he'd earn a slap to the back of his head. He turns to check that she isn't looking before turning and making a face of his own, earning a laugh from Prim and a rare smile from Katniss who reaches her finger out to write something in the frost._

_“Hi.” In her pretty scrawl._

_Peeta gives her a crooked smile._

_“Why don't you go on out there, Peet.” His father says and Peeta turns to him. His father is wearing a knowing smile on his weather-worn face._

_“Mom says I have to stay in today.” Peeta says, turning back to the window where Katniss waits, tugging on her braid like she does when she is nervous._

_“I'll cover for you kid.” His dad says pushing him from behind the counter. “Go have some fun dammit.”_

_Peeta doesn't have to be asked twice. He grabs his jacket and races for the door. Tucking two cookies from the cooling rack in his pocket. He's sure the two haven't eaten today._

_“Hi Peeta!” Prim chirps, her hair the color of butter in the light. Katniss runs her fingers through Prim's hair fondly and gives him a look he doesn't quite understand. He looks down at Prim and beams at her, pulling out a macaroon cookie that he stole and handing it to her._

_“My favorite.” Prim breathes, inhaling the scent._

_“I know.” Peeta says._

_“Peeta.” Katniss says warningly, pushing the three of them out of sight of the window. “You can't keep doing that.”_

_“Why not? Dad always makes too many, their just going to get thrown out.” He tries._

_“You don't know that!” Katniss snaps. “What if your Mom caught you?”_

_“Who cares?” Peeta says. But the look on her face says she cares. She's one of the few people that knows what happens when they come up short on inventory. They've had this argument at least twelve times in the last two weeks and it ends the same way every time. “Just take the damned cookie, Katniss.”_

_“We aren't your charity case, Peeta.” Katniss snarls, earning a worried look from Prim._

_“It isn't charity, Kat.”_

_“Then what is it?” she says, hands on her hips and he has the oddest feeling of endearment in his chest. Its like sunlight has been injected in his veins, warm and saturating._

_“We're friends.” He says with a shrug of his shoulders. “Friends help each other out.” He winks at Prim and she blushes, ducking her head down._

_Katniss flops her mouth open, then shut. He smiles at an argument won. “Now, Kat, eat your cookie.” She takes it like it might detonate. And when she takes a small bite he can't help the smile on his face, its worth all the punishment in the world knowing she'll be okay for another day._

_His mother is waiting up for him when he comes home. The bakery is closed, all the counters have been wiped down and the ovens are as cold as the glare his mother gives him. Her hair that was carefully pinned up this morning is falling into her face. Her dress is a pristine white making her look a little too washed out, her face is a cold mask, as antiseptic as her dress._

_He eyes the rolling pin near her right hand carefully. “Sit, Peeta.” She orders in a voice blank of emotion. Peeta knows better than to sit, it will only make him a stationary target. He remains standing, he won't give her an easy opponent, he won't be a sitting duck._

_“How many times do I have to tell you to steer clear of that Everdeen girl?” His mother says, her bony fingers twitching. “You continue to run around, all over town with that little hoodrat.” She taps her finger against the wooden rolling pin and looks up at him, her cool blue eyes seething._

_“I said to sit.” She snaps, her mouth barely moving. Peeta feels a cold prickle go up his spine. “I'll give you to the count of three.” She says simply and Peeta feels his legs twitch toward the chair but holds steady. “One.” Her eyes are locked on his. “Two.” And Peeta feels his feet shuffle forward of his own accord. Its all about self preservation and he knows what will happen when she gets to three, its been conditioned into him from birth. Don't ever let her get to three. Whatever is waiting for him will pale in comparison._

_“That's better.” She says with a plastic smile._

_“Mom.”_

_“Stealing from your own family.” She snarls. “For what?” His finger comes up and traces the grain on the table. She leans back in her chair, studying him. “For her?”_

_“Mom.” The word comes out tasting like bile._

_“Just like your father, a bleeding heart!” She snaps. “If he had his way this bakery would be broke!”_

_“Mom.” He keeps parroting the word as if it would remind her that she is suppose to be something like word itself implies, something warm and loving. But she is a skeleton, thin, bony, void of emotion._

_“You have a lot to learn about life, Son.” She says and Peeta feels his chest expand and fall, he knows he's breathing but its like all the oxygen has been sucked from the room. He prepares himself for it. “The two of you are from different worlds.”_

_“That doesn't matter.” He says gently._

_“You always were stupid.” She whispers softly, in a world weary kind of way. “I've tried, son, and you continue to defy me.” Her hand jets out and he raises his arm in a futile attempt to protect himself._

_Blinding, white spots flash across his vision and heat burns his cheek as the chair tips and he lands against the floor, splattering against the wood with a dull thud. He rolls over, tasting the slippery copper blood that leaks from his lip._

_“I hate that you make me do that, Son.”_

_She steps over him as he tries to regain his equilibrium. He sits up slowly and his vision swims, like he spent too long on a tilt-o-whirl. His hand comes up to his cheek and he can feel it swelling beneath his fingers._

_“Don't ever let me catch you with her again.” His mother chirps almost happily, dropping the rolling pin in the kitchen before climbing the stairs. He listens to her heavy footfalls receding into the dark before he tries to stand._

_Peeta makes his way to the bathroom, his head still spinning and flicks on the light. Already there is a bruise, purple and red and marring. He sighs, usually she leaves his face alone for fear of the questions that might come with it. Though nothing really ever came of the questions, everyone in town knows how she treats her sons._

_He turns the tap on and waits for it to get nice and cold before soaking a towel and pressing it to his face, wincing as the water drips down his cheek. Pink, bloody water drips into the basin._

_He stares at himself for a long time, trying to work something out before turning the water off and setting the bloody towel in the hamper._

_He begins to walk mechanically toward the door, feeling something hot and spitting in his chest. Fuck his mother and fuck the bakery._

_Its a long walk, and the sky is streaked in baby blue and pink as he rounds the corner onto Katniss's street. Her house is dark but she is where he knew he'd find her, as if she is waiting for him. Perched up in the tree at the end of the drive, wedged in a fork of its old, decaying trunk with a mug of tea in her hands and a book perched on her knee._

_He stands their for a moment before she notices him, the hood of his plain, black sweatshirt pulled up over his blonde curls and his hands shoved in his pockets. Finally she looks up and her eyes immediately hone in on the blackened cheekbone, raw with the cold morning._

_“Peeta?” She says, throwing her book to the ground._

_“Couldn't sleep?” He asks, toeing the dirt with his boot and looking at the weeds that dot the barren strip of land she calls a yard. That heavy, vile thing in his chest returns and for some reason he doesn't want to look at her. Like he'll see everything in her charcoal eyes. He doesn't want to see the pity there. For a moment, he thinks he understands Katniss fully for the first time in his fourteen years. “I couldn't either.” He says in what he hopes is a weak explanation for his showing up at six a.m. on a Tuesday morning._

_“What happened?” She demands._

_“Like I said, I couldn't sleep.” He hears her jump down from the tree. He tries to hide himself down in his sweatshirt where she can't reach him. Suddenly, he fears he will cry._

_Just as weak and stupid as his Mother says._

_Her fingers reach out and touch his bruise, her skin has soaked in the cold and it feels so good against the hot angry flesh of his cheeks. His eyes pop open and regard her silently. Her eyes are sharp and angry, a fury she couldn't hope to hide. He feels it again, bile rising in his throat._

_He can't understand her._

_“Leave me alone.” He says. “If you don't have anything nice to say.” He adds, kicking the ground._

_“Come on.” She says, grabbing his hand with hers and tugging him up the driveway. She leads him out back where a tire swing hangs from a tree. She climbs the fence and waits patiently as he clumsily falls over the wire._

_The woods hang in front of them, dark shadows beneath the gloomy pines. Maples dot the landscape red and orange and as they push through the knee high golden grass she tells him to watch out for snakes. A flock of crows sail through the early morning mist like an omen._

_Her hand never leaves his as she leads him to an old hollowed out pine tree. Inside there is only a small space and they both squeeze in._

_“What is this place?” He asks._

_“My secret hiding place.” she says with a shrug._

_“I like it.” He says softly. “Its quiet.”_

_“I come here to think.” she says, her eyes gazing up at the rotting wood. “My dad made it for me.”_

_“Its cool.” And he feels something bursting in his chest. Katniss Everdeen trusted him with this secret. Maybe, someday, she'd trust him with others._

_She turns to look at him with eyes that are filled with stars. Or at least, that's what he thinks when he sees them. Flex golden like starlight. He could look at them all day and not have his fill._

_“I told you this would happen.” She says, her tone bristled._

_“It would have happened anyway.” Peeta snaps back. “If it wasn't this it would be something else, its not your fault.” Its his, he thinks._

_A silence hangs between them for a long hanging moment._

_“I hate her.” Katniss snaps, her tone hard and fierce._

_“Me too.” And Peeta is startled by his declaration. All these years, all the bruises and the insults and the times she had locked him in the pantry. All the poking and prodding and demeaning, and he never said it outwardly, because, quite simply, its a lie. Not totally, he does hate her, but he is also loves her. She's his mother and he always hopes that someday, she'd look at him and say he was enough._

_That hope keeps him coming back, edging his way around her like she is a wild dog, snarling, vicious but maybe could be tamed, could be loving if only he tried harder._

_“Why doesn't your Dad do something!” Katniss states angrily, gritting her teeth._

_“I don't know, Kat, I've been wondering that for my whole life.” She turns to him suddenly, eyes bright as they search his face._

_She bites her lip as if deep in thought and then quickly leans forward and kisses his cheek, right on his bruise. And everything inside of him goes still except his heart, which beats so furiously in his chest he fears it will collapse altogether. That he will die right here in the belly of a pine tree, among the molded pine needles and mildew smell of rotting leaves._

_For once he feels like he could die happy._

 

XX.XX

 

The bar isn't as crowded as it was before and he keeps a careful look out for Gale Hawthorne and his friends before entering. An old man sits at the bar, nursing a glass of amber liquid. Leevy is at the register, tallying something on a piece of worn out paper, a pencil in her hand. Her hair is a fluid wall between them and Peeta is grateful, it gives him time to sit at a bar stool and pull his money from his pocket.

She finally peeks up and notices him. A smile that isn't quite right pulls at the corner of her lips. She's dressed in a faded flannel and blue jeans with a rip in the right knee. For the first time he really takes in how much she looks like Katniss. Stick straight hair, dark as a ravens wing and caramel skin, high cheekbones and gray, slanted eyes. 

“Hey Peeta.” She says, floating across the room and standing in front of him. “What will it be?” 

“Sierra Nevada?” He asks and she nods, grabbing a bottle from a fridge by her knees and setting it in front of him. She reaches for a glass but he shakes his head.

“No need for that.” He makes a show of swigging from his bottle.

She grabs a rag and wipes down the wet ring his bottle has left behind. “Your turning into a regular Peeta.” She says.

“I suppose so.” He says with a shrug.

“I like it.” She says with a smile, her teeth are straight and white and for a moment it takes everything in him to breath. 

“That so?” He says, making himself smile back.

“Yeah, you were always so nice in high school.” She leans against the bar. “I always tried to get you to notice me.”

“Really?” This is news to Peeta. Sure Leevy always hung around during lunch but he always assumed it was because of Gale and Katniss.

“Yeah, you only had eyes for Katniss though.”

“Sorry?” He isn't sure if that is the proper response, and he isn't sorry, but he feels like he should say it. She shrugs her shoulders. 

“Why be sorry?” She says dismissively. “You loved her.”

Love. He corrects in his head. Just because someone is gone away, doesn't mean you stop loving them. 

“Do you think she's still alive?” Leevy asks. The question makes Peeta shift on the worn leather of the bar stool. The old man drinking his liquor eyes him sideways. 

“I do.” Peeta says resolutely. “She'll come back.” 

“I wish I could be as sure as you.” Leevy says as the man down the bar motions for her to refill his tumbler. His dark eyes narrowing at Peeta as he mumbles something under his breath. Peeta pays him no mind.

“She'll come back.” Peeta says to the empty space Leevy just occupied.

 

XX.XX

 

Peeta stares at the man in front of him, hardly believing he's a detective. Dark, greasy hair and a bent, crooked nose. He smells like vodka and his decrepit button up has sweat stains that seem to have baked in the sun for awhile. Peeta watches while he dips his fry into gravy and shoves it into his mouth unceremoniously.

“You sure your a detective?” Peeta asks, shoving his own plate away from him.

“You've asked me that before, kid.” Haymitch grunts.

“Its just, you don't seem like a detective.” Peeta can't help the look crossing his face, something between amusement and disgust. 

“I can promise you, I am. Or at least that is what the credentials on my wall tell me.” Haymitch wipes his hands on his napkin and narrows his eyes at Peeta. “Now, bout your girlfriend.”

“What about her?” Peeta says, feeling his pulse quicken. A dizzying feeling not unlike the one he gets when his mother hits him washes over him.

“She's gone.”

“So we've established.” Peeta snaps, running his fingers through his curls. 

“You know where she is?” Haymitch asks.

“If I did, we wouldn't be here.” Peeta grumbles. Looking at the table.

“Hey, now, can't blame me for asking.” Haymitch says. “Now, tell me about her.” Haymitch says, pulling a flyer from the folder resting underneath his plate of half eaten meatloaf sandwich.

Peeta groans inwardly, does this guy know how painful this is for him? Does he know its reopening the wounds that have been braiding into a scar for one long year.

“What do you want to know?” Peeta asks in a tired voice.

“I want to know everything.” Haymitch answers, leaning forward.

Peeta doesn't know where to begin. So he starts with the simple things. “Her favorite color is green.” Peeta starts softly, watching Haymitch scrawl “Green.” across the paper in neat, small writing. He shakes himself. “Her Dad died when we we're eleven, her mom kind of.... checked out after, so it was up to Katniss to take care of her younger sister.” 

Haymitch motions for him to keep going. “Um, she worked here.” Peeta says and Haymitch glances up, his face unsurprised. “She didn't really like most people.” Peeta smiles at this, his fingers playing with the edge of the plate. “She loved her sister though.”

“What about you?” Peeta's head snaps up, and sees the cop looking at him with blank eyes. “Did she love you?”

Peeta doesn't know exactly how to answer that. Did she love him? There is a small, nagging voice in the back of his head that says she wouldn't have left if she did. 

“I'd like to think so.” Peeta says weakly.

“Wasn't she your girlfriend?” Asks Haymitch.

“Sort of.” Peeta says.

“What's that mean?”

Peeta feels something hot twist painfully in his gut. “It means she didn't like to label things.” Peeta snaps coldly. 

“What about Gale Hawthorne?” 

“What about him?” Peeta throws back with a sigh, leaning back in the booth and resting his head on the cold plastic fabric.

“Did she love him.” 

“Yes.” Peeta doesn't need to think that one over. She loved Gale, that was certain. It was in what way that left Peeta's brain foggy. 

“I bet that's rough.” Haymitch says, writing furiously now. “Watching your girlfriend love someone else.” 

“It could be.” Peeta whispers, feeling honest with himself for the first time in a year. “But she was Katniss.” He says in way of explanation, as if her name simply was the answer. Haymitch cocks his head to the side. 

“You really loved her didn't you kid?” 

“Yeah, I did.” Peeta says with a shrug, his eyes heavy. 

“Did you see her the night she disappeared?” Haymitch asks, running his fingers over his pen. 

“I've answered that question a thousand times.” Peeta says.

“I want you to answer it again.” Haymitch leans back and smirks, for a moment Peeta wants to slap it right off his face.

“No.” Peeta spits. “I didn't see her.”

“You're lying to me.” 

“I'm not.” Peeta says exasperation clear in his voice. 

“Son-” Haymitch starts and Peeta cuts him off.

“I'm not your son!” Peeta shouts and the people in the booth next to theirs stop eating and stare at him. 

“I suggest you start talking NOW.” Haymitch points in his face, making Peeta shrink back in his seat. Haymitch immediately sits back, as if he can see it in Peeta's face. The years of flinching away from a impending hit. Peeta wonders what he looks like to this man. How weak? How broken?. “Who are you protecting?” Haymitch says suddenly.

Peeta just remains sitting there, panting like a dog, still waiting for the blow that won't come. Peeta says nothing, just looks down at the counter and his turkey sandwich that sits untouched in front of him. 

“I think you saw her that night and something happened, accident or otherwise, and your protecting someone.” Haymitch leans forward. “But I am here to protect her, you understand?” Peeta nods because he does, he understands fully what it is like to want to protect Katniss Everdeen, but doesn't Haymitch know? How futile that is?

“I'll ask you again, did you see Katniss that night?” 

Peeta doesn't move, doesn't breath and he certainly doesn't look up at Haymitch. For a moment he thinks he is going to spill everything but then a soft voice whispers in the back of his mind. “Why would you be so cruel?” The voice is husky and well worn, just like Katniss, just like that night.

“No.” Says a voice that is his, but sounds far away. 

Haymitch sighs, running his hand over his face.

“I'll be in touch kid.” Peeta looks up. Haymitch glares at him. “That means get out of my sight.” 

Peeta stands and practically runs out of the little diner, ignoring the stares of the people around him. He needs the cold air prickling his face, he needs the smell of moldy leaves and pine. He bypasses the bakery and his mothers worried glare. He climbs in his car and drives out to the seam, parking two streets over as usual, he slips passed her house without looking at it and over the fence and trudges through the snow and old, dead grass. 

It looks the same as it did before. Its a tight squeeze but he manages to shimmy his way inside and kneel into the wet dirt. 

Katniss had put a few trinkets inside in the years since she had brought him here. There is picture of her and Prim, frayed with time, taped to the wall. There is a candle that is melted to a nub stuck in the dirt and a paperback book dog eared and decaying into the ground. 

But what surprises him is the picture of him that is taped to the wall right beneath the one of Prim and Katniss. He remembers the day it was taken, they were freshman in high school. He has a backwards baseball cap on his head, a few curls peeking out from beneath it and his hoodie is wrapped around Katniss's shoulders. Her head leans against his shoulder, her face looking up into his, caught unaware of the camera that Madge was holding. 

He smiles and pulls it carefully from the wall. His fingers run over her cheekbone and down her neck. 

Did she love him? He'd like to think so, but after this year he isn't sure of anything. 

“I miss you so much.” He says to the photo, but photo Katniss is looking up at photo Peeta and she can't turn and look at him, she can't give him the answers he needs. He feels his chin quiver and he can't stop it.

“Where did you go, huh?” He whispers. “ I can't protect you anymore.” He stares at the photo as if she will answer him. “Sooner or later, they're going to catch up.” His thumb runs over her face. For a moment he is so angry at her he could scream. Angry at her, Angry at Haymitch, Angry at his mother, but most of all, angry at himself.

He puts the picture back up where she hung it and stays sitting in the hollow, his knees pulled up to his chest. He shuts his eyes tight and presses his face into his knees. “Keep trying.” Says a voice in the back of his head. Smooth as silk and sweet as honey. “That is what we do after all, protect each other.” 

“Katniss.” He whispers, his hand jutting out from the hollow and catching a few snowflakes in his palm. He acts as if his voice can cross the valleys and mountains, across time and space, rivers and deserts to wherever she is hidden, dead or alive. He wills it to find her wherever she might be, and bring her home, no matter what state she might be. She may just be bones in the dirt but he would collect them up and hold them together as if the act of love alone could be enough to bring her back to life.

He tells himself this is what she wanted and it leaves a gaping hole in his chest. Because, he is the only person who really knows. She wanted to be gone. In the end, she didn't want him.

Just like his mother.

He feels the wind hit the tears on his cheek and bite his face but he doesn't move to wipe them away. He lets them sting his face and drip onto his lips and onto the soft, brown dirt beneath him. He knows nothing of where she is now, only the certainty she isn't coming back. He has nothing to offer her. Nothing he could do could save her now.

But he can stand in front of her and keep the wolves from coming. Its the only thing left. He holds onto but like a dream upon waking it slips through his fingers, leaving him as hollowed out as the tree. 

 

XX.XX

 

The bar is packed with people, and Peeta shoves his way through them in an attempt to find Leevy. She is carrying a wooden crate filled with bottles up from the cellar. She's changed out of her old, ratty clothes and into a dress, a garish yellow that looks out of place in the dank light. 

“Can I help you with that?” He asks and she lets him, smiling at him gratefully. 

“Back so soon.” She says as he sets the crate on the counter and takes her hand, leading her to the small, narrow hallway that leads to the restrooms. “Not that I'm not happy to see you.” She rushes to get out, a blush blooming on her cheeks.

“I was in the area.” He says, feeling like its a lie. Feeling like he should rewind the tape of his life, turn around head back to his car and disappear in the night, go back to the diner and fall on his proverbial sword. Tell Haymitch everything, come whatever may. Lose what little he has left. Betray Katniss in the worst way. 

“Well, let me buy you a beer.” She says. The hallway is so narrow their chests are almost touching. He can feel the heat radiating off her. He shuts his eyes, pressing them together tightly. “Why are you all dirty?” She asks, taking his hand and leading him back to the bar.

“Spent the day in the woods.” He says.

“The woods?” and she laughs as she says it. “Nothing out there.” She says handing him the beer and he drinks it down quickly, feeling her eyes watching him quietly, as if she knows what he's thinking. 

She feeds him beer after beer, giving him soft sympathetic glances as she moves from person to person. She doesn't speak to him again until the people have thinned out and he's helping her turn bar stools upside down on the bar. He's wobbly and warm, empty of feeling as the liquor numbs his arms and legs.

“Want me to give you a ride home?” She asks, grabbing her coat and keys.

“No.” He says, swaying on his feet. “No, I'll just-” His voice is slurring together, he knows he's drunk and he should shut his mouth, get into a cab and go home. 

“No, I'll just walk you to your car, call a cab.” He says, and she nods. After she locks up they stand in the snow, with her looking at him with an curious expression on her face. Then he is leaning forward on shaking legs and pressing his lips to hers, soft and pliable, warm against his. Its chaste and quick, over before he has realized what has happened. But for a moment he could have sworn it was a different pair of lips. Its sends a keening ache into his chest, his heart battering his ribcage. 

It was only a moment, but somehow, it seems laid out before him. Of all his regrets, this will be the worst of them all. Leevy looks at him as if he is a snake. He swipes his hand over his eyes in an attempt to regain what little composure he has left. 

“I'm not her.” She says sharply. Her voice is the only noise for miles. He looks up at her, awash in the amber light from the only streetlamp for miles. Just like another night, so much like this one.

“I know.” He says with a bitterness edging into his voice. She climbs in her car and leaves him behind, so easily it makes him laugh caustically. He doesn't blame her a bit. After all, thats what Katniss did. 

Its the only thing he's good for.

XX.XX

 

_Katniss is dead to the world, her head pressed against his shoulder. A greasy cardboard box he brought over still sits in her lap, a small smudge of pizza sauce sits at the corner of her lip as she snores. Prim sits on his other side, laughing at the cheesy horror film he brought over. For such a little kid she could stomach gore like a champ._

_“She still asleep?” Prim asks and Peeta doesn't need to answer because Katniss snores softly, making her sister laugh._

_“She really likes you, you know.” Katniss shifts slightly, her head burying itself in the crook between his shoulder and the couch. He reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, she stirs slightly, her breath fanning across his neck._

_“How do you know that, Prim.” He asks._

_“She talks in her sleep.” Prim says with a shrug._

_“I saw her kiss Gale Hawthorne.” Peeta admits. Feeling a stab of jealousy, then guilt. Katniss is his friend, he doesn't own her and it isn't his business who she kisses._

_“That isn't what you think.” Prim says softly. “She's just confused.”_

_Peeta conjures an image of Gale, tall, dark, weathered and handsome, even at fifteen, he looks like a man. More than that, he lost his father in the same accident that took Mr Everdeen, he understands that loss Katniss carries with her. How is Peeta suppose to compete with that?_

_“He doesn't make her smile like you do.” Prim says. “You remind her things can be better than this.”_

_Peeta leans forward and brushes his fingers against her forehead. Softly, she sighs. “Peeta.” she mumbles sleepily._

_He laughs. “Yeah?” He asks her as Prim smirks with a knowing glance well beyond her years._

_“Quit hogging the blanket.” She says without opening her eyes, but she gives him a tiny smirk, pulling the blanket over her shoulder and burying her face against him._

_“See?” Prim whispers in his ear, so her sister can't hear. “She loves you.”_


	6. Haymitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He doesn't know it now, but when the time comes it won't matter.
> 
>  
> 
> The end always comes.
> 
>  
> 
> And never when you expect it to.

_Haymitch leans against the hood of the car, letting the almost unbearable heat of the metal seep into his shirt and sear his skin. It is barely ten in the morning but already it's bitterly hot outside, muggy and humid. A drop of sweat beads at the nape of his neck and drips its way down his back. It's alright, he doesn't mind the heat, especially out here in the graveyard, where the sun reflects off the rows of broken cars. It keeps his father inside, filing paperwork and away from his middle son, which suits Haymitch just fine._

 

_The Graveyard is what they call the junkyard, the place cars go to die. Haymitch hates the old, crusted cars that sleep in the sun, though he wouldn't dare tell his father that. He blocks the sun from his eyes with the book he's trying to read, spots staining his vision, making the words blur together._

 

 

 

_At least he doesn't have to hear the old man slur his words. At least he doesn't have to smell the alcohol on his breath. Listen as he screams at his mother for things she can't control until the baby hears and starts to wail. Out here there aren't any dirty dishes piled up or laundry that needs to be done. Out here, its just quiet, and more than anything Haymitch craves quiet._

 

 

 

_The sound of something scraping metal catches his attention. Must be the old mutt that wanders through the place, looking for trespassers._

 

_“Victor,” Haymitch calls, not bothering to look away from his book. “Shut up.”_

 

_But then the sound comes again, only louder. Finally, Haymitch peeks his head up to see a girl standing a few feet away from him. She's dressed in a lavender tank top and jeans that have been cut off at mid-thigh, his eyes immediately hone in on her flip flops, bright yellow and garish in the sun. Her blonde hair pulled up into a high ponytail on her head. Dirt streaks her face as her lips turn up into a shy smile._

 

_“Who are you?” He snaps in surprise._

 

_She doesn't say anything just looks around in wonder at the smashed cars and strewn car parts that litter the dirt._

 

_“Your trespassing, you know.” He says, hopping off the car. Now he's standing at full height he notices she shrinks back a little bit. She's tiny, can't be more than thirteen._

 

_“Who are you?” He says a little softer._

 

_Finally, she speaks in a soft voice you have to strain your ears to listen. “Masilyee Donner.” She says in a twangy but oddly proud voice. Haymitch feels his eyebrows scrunch as he tries to place her accent. “Most people just call me Mazzy.”_

 

_“Well, Mazzy, like I said.” He points to the fence, at least six feet high and barbed. How did she even get in here? “You're trespassing, so you should turn around and go back the way you came, 'fore Victor finds you.”_

 

_“Whose Victor?” She asks, putting her hands on her hips._

 

_“The junkyard dog.”_

 

_“Victor is a dumb name for a dog.” She snorts._

 

_“Well, I didn't name him,” Haymitch grumbles._

 

_“Whats your name?” She's growing braver, coming to stand next to him, watching him with big, blue eyes._

 

_He kicks a rock and it skitters across the ground and slams into a car door, the sound loud and jarring. “Haymitch.” He finally mumbles._

 

_“Haymitch.” She tastes his name on her tongue and smiles. “How old are you Haymitch?” She asks, perching herself on the car behind Haymitch, wincing as her bare legs hit the hot metal._

 

_“Fifteen.”_

 

_“I'm almost thirteen.” She says._

 

_He opens his mouth to remind her, yet again, that she's trespassing. Not that Haymitch minds really, but if his father found her here it wouldn't end well. Though its only morning, he's surely already halfway through his second bottle. A low growl from somewhere behind him makes his heart slam to a stop in his chest._

 

_A leathery looking Rottweiler comes slinking out from behind a mangled truck, saliva dripping from his jowls. He snarls at the girl who narrows her eyes at the dog._

 

_“Victor, get back,” Haymitch command the dog, who doesn't bat an eye, just keeps his slow charge toward the little girl._

 

_“Victor.” He bellows, “Mazzy, get your legs up!” but she doesn't she jumps off the car and marches straight towards the dog whose growling turns to a sharp bark as he lunges toward her._

 

_“Don't you snarl at me,” she commands the dog, taking a step forward and putting her hands on her hips._

 

_To Haymitch's surprise, the dog seems backs off, eying her with watery, dark eyes. That dog has never listened to anyone, least of all Haymitch. His eyes bounce back and forth between the girl and the dog. She takes a step forward and pats the dog on the head as if he's a puppy in a store. She smiles. “Good boy.”_

 

_“H-How did you do that?” Haymitch asks._

 

_“Just gotta show em' who's boss is all.” She crouches down and the dog pads over to her and licks her face, smearing the dirt on her cheek. She looks up at Haymitch and smiles. “He's a marshmallow.” She says dismissively._

 

_Haymitch sighs and leans back against the car. “You ain't from here.” He observes and she shakes her head._

 

_“Biloxi, Mississippi.” She says. “Daddy just moved us here last week, opened up the candy shop downtown.”_

 

_“What's a girl like you doing out here in the seam?” He asks, after all, it isn't every day a white girl from town ends up in The Graveyard._

 

_“I like it here.” She says, looking up at the cloudless blue sky. “It looks lived in.” The sunlight catches in her hair._

 

_“Yeah, that's one way to put it.” Haymitch snorts bitterly._

 

_“You're not very nice are you.” She states but not in a mean way, more in a matter of fact way, as simple as if she stated that the sky was blue or water was wet._

 

_“How'd you even get out here?”_

 

_“I walked.” She states simply._

 

_“From town?” He spits, sure its common for seam kids to make the walk into town, but the other way around is practically unheard of. It's a twelve-minute drive into town. It takes forever to walk and the sun is already beating down on the hot tarmac of the tiny, two-lane highway that connects the town and the seam. The miles between are all trees and dirt and narrow spaces between the road and the forest._

 

_“Sure.” She says, laughing at the expression on his face. “Ain't so hard, you know.”_

 

_“Well, you best turn around and go back now. My Dad ain't going to be too happy to find you out here.”_

 

_“Fine.” She says, slipping through the cars. He follows behind her and comes to the fence. She pulls up a small bit where its come loose from the ground. She smiles at him one last time and shimmies underneath the chain link, he holds it up for her, so it doesn't catch on her shirt._

 

_“Well, nice to meet you Haymitch.” She says. He stays silent as he watches her walk off down the road until her body is a black dot on the horizon and then vanishes completely from view. Finally, the chain link slips from his fingers as he hears his Dad calling him in from the garage. His voice is already slurred._

 

_Haymitch knows he should tell his Dad about the weak point in the fence, so he can come out and fix it. For some reason, Haymitch knows he won't, because he wants to see the girl again. For some reason, she seems different than the other townies. She doesn't seem stuck up or vain._

 

_She's just a little girl._

 

_She seems so vulnerable to the world, whether she could calm snarling dogs or not. And a small, hidden part of Haymitch wants to step in front of her and protect her from the failings of the world. As silly as it sounds to him, He thinks he might be able to do it._

 

_He doesn't know it now, but when the time comes it won't matter._

 

_The end always comes._

 

_And never when you expect it to._

 

XX.XX

 

 

The Everdeen house sits at the end of a dead-end street. Its dark and dented compared to the ones around it. It looks like it was nice once but now it droops in the midday sun, all chipping paint and rotting wood. Haymitch treads carefully over the stairs and knocks carefully on the door, afraid it might collapse beneath his knock.

 

He knew Jessa Everdeen back when they were children. She was a pretty girl, quiet and nice, she was one of the few merchants that didn't look down on the kids from the seam. No one imagined she would marry one, move there, live a life in the dirty streets and cracked pavement. It serves as a reminder for Haymitch that people, despite how clean or pretty or clever, will always surprise you.

 

He knocks again, more insistently and finally, after a gaping moment, the door swings open. The woman looking at him is unrecognizable to him. He steps back, his eyes flicking downward.

 

“Haymitch,” She says curtly.

 

“Morning Mrs. Everdeen,” He says, clearing his throat. “Tried calling but the phone has been disconnected.”

 

She doesn't say anything, just stares at him with unblinking eyes. He sees the bottle hanging limply from her fingers but doesn't comment on it.

 

“I was hoping to go to her room?” He tries and Jessa shrugs her shoulders, turning and walking away, but leaving the door open and he takes it as an invitation. The house is a mess and smells like licorice and whiskey, a smell he knows well.

 

“Her room is through there,” Jessa says pointing to a room with its door pulled tightly shut at the end of the hall. “I haven't touched it since she left.” She collapses on the couch and pulls her knees up to her chest. Haymitch wants to say something to her, but what can he say? He's lost a child, he knows it raw ache it leaves inside. There is nothing to fix it, so he thanks her quietly and moves down the hallway.

 

The room is clean and bright compared to the rest of the house.

 

An untouched shrine.

 

Her bed is neatly made, the hamper in the corner overflowing with clothes, Her desk covered in papers. The walls surprisingly barren, no posters or pictures. She has an old turntable with a stack of vinyl records next to it. He picks up the one resting on top and places it on the turntable, setting the worn needle down.

 

The room erupts in noise.

 

 

 

He isn't sure what he expected but it was the melodic folk that comes from the speakers. He sits carefully on the edge of the bed and looks around. He can almost see her moving around the room, reading a book on her bed, sitting on the window ledge watching the rain, doing her homework at her desk.

 

Her ghost moves around the room, unsmiling, razor-backed and empty-eyed.

 

It hits him how young she was, eighteen and already lost in this world. He wants a stiff drink, his hands shake with it. For a moment he wonders if Jessa might share. He ignores the pulsing in his blood and stands instead, running his hands over the worn spines of the books gathering dust on her bookshelf.

 

He looks down at her bed and for a moment it is two ghosts in the room, one a precocious blonde with bright yellow flip-flops and big, wide eyes that threaten to swallow you whole. The other is the unsmiling girl from the photo with her long braid draped over her shoulder and hands on her hips.

 

Ghosts of girls he couldn't save.

 

There has been so many.

 

He swallows in a gulp of air and turns, startled at the sound of floorboards creaking.

 

 

 

“That's her Dad singin'.” The hollow-eyed Jessa says, reaching out and ripping the needle from its resting place. The room is quiet again, she turns and shuffles down the hall.

 

He glances out of the window, a group of scrawny seam kids are playing a game of kickball in the street, birds are chirping, the sun is blinding but the day is cold.

 

All Haymitch feels is the emptiness that seeps in through the walls. For the first time, he thinks he understands why she left.

 

This place is a mausoleum.

 

 

XX.XX

 

 

Haymitch watches.

 

Its what he is good at, watching and waiting.

 

Gale Hawthorne sits across from him in a beat-up leather jacket, his hair slicked back and wet, his dark gray eyes watch Haymitch right back with something burning in his eyes, something like contempt.

 

“Mr. Hawthorne,” Haymitch says finally, clearing his throat. “It's a pleasure to finally meet you.”

 

Gale scoffs, a bitter noise from the back of his throat.

 

“Katniss Everdeen was your friend?”

 

“So what?” Gale shoots at him.

 

“Just trying to get the big picture here.”

 

“I've already talked to the cops, I've said everything I have to say about- about-” It's like Gale's throat closes for the briefest of moments like he hasn't said her name in a long time. “About Katniss.” He says finally.

 

“When did you meet?” Haymitch presses without taking his eyes away from Gale. There is only silence before Gale's eyes finally cast down.

 

“We've been friends as long as I can remember,” He says softly, his eyes soften for a moment, lost in a memory of the two of them. “Our dad's were friends, they both died in the explosion.” His voice warbles.

 

Haymitch decides to throw more wood on the fire, he snatches up the photo from her file and drops it in front of Gale, who stares at it, but makes no move to touch it.

 

“When was the last time you spoke to her?” Haymitch asks.

 

“Three days before,” Gale says, his jaw working furiously.

 

“What did she say to you?” Haymitch asks.

 

Gale's eyes shoot up, his eyebrows knit together as he leans forward subtly. Pressing his lips against his fisted hands, resting his elbows on the grimy table in front of him. Haymitch is surprised when Gale's voice comes, its soft, almost pleading.

 

“She said-” His finger comes up and traces photo Katniss gently. “She said she was tired.” He says simply.

 

Haymitch is quiet a long time, watching Gale for any signs of uneasiness but it isn't there. He just looks sad. “And what did you say to her?” Haymitch finally asks.

 

“I told her I was tired too,” Gale says, never taking his eyes of the photo.

 

Haymitch makes a note on the paper in front of him.

 

Tired.

 

“She's dead, isn't she?” Gale says quietly.

 

“We don't know that,” Haymitch says.

 

“I do,” Gale says. This catches Haymitch off guard, his ear perk, he shifts forward in his seat.

 

“What makes you say that Mr. Hawthorne?”

 

“Prim is gone,” Gale says softly. “Without her, Katniss left already.” Gale pushes the photo back at Haymitch. “She just didn't know it yet.”

 

XX.XX

 

 

Kennedy lake is quiet. In the middle of winter, there are no boats on the water or campers with bonfires. It sits still in the early morning fog, green water rippling, lapping against the snowy shore. Haymitch sits on the hood of his car with a cup of coffee and a cigarette, listening to a loon cry out, mournful and lonely.

 

Darius is scribbling something on a pad of paper next to him, rather impatient to get out of the cold and back to the station, but Darius doesn't dare question a senior officer like Haymitch. He just waits, impatience steaming off him.

 

Haymitch is trying to see what she saw in this place. Why she loved it so much. To him it had always been mucky water and too many tourists. But Katniss spent summer mornings swimming laps here and in winter wrapped in blankets on the shore, sipping tea with her friend Gale.

 

Is she here?

 

Turning to fish food at the silty bottom, waiting for someone to find her?

 

“Darius?” The redhead looks up from the doodle he's been working on. This is the first time Haymitch has spoken in over an hour and his voice comes out rusty, cracked.

 

“Yeah, boss?”

 

“You ever drag the lake?”

 

“No sir,” Darius says. “Never had a reason, and it's not like the station is made of money. No evidence she was ever here.”

 

“Route 12 goes right passed the liquor store,” Haymitch says, lost in thought. “She would have gone right passed this place.” His voice is a hum.

 

“Guess your right,” Darius said.

 

“Come on,” Haymitch says.

 

“Where are we going?”

 

“To talk to the Captain, I want to know whats at the bottom of that lake.”

 

 

_Haymitch walks among the dead weeds at the side of the highway. Cars whiz pass him as he heads to town, kicking rocks as he walks. His mother is sick and his father spent the better part of the morning screaming at her to get up and fix him something to eat. She can barely stand, and her face is flush with fever. Finally, his dad gave up and stomped to the warehouse._

 

_Haymitch jumps into action. He knows the place behind the fridge where his mother keeps a tin of money secret from his father. He grabs a worn out twenty and shoves it in his pocket and heads for town._

 

_The walk is lonely._

 

_He is just reaching the edge of town and a sidewalk when he sees her. The little blonde girl, her hair is a rats nest and her shirt is dirty as a group of town kids plays kickball in the street. She runs over, abandoning the game as soon as she sees him._

 

_“Hiya,” She yells, running to keep up with him._

 

_“Get lost, squirt.” He grumbles, eying the group of blonde kids whispering behind their hands._

 

_“What are you doing?” she asks, her voice going a mile a minute. Ignoring his jab at her. He huffs out a sigh._

 

_“Getting stuff for my mom.”_

 

_“Mind if I walk with you?”_

 

_“Do whatever you want I guess.” He mumbles, keeping his eyes on the ground and away from the group of kids laughing at his threadbare shirt, his Chuck Taylors that are torn. She falls into step next to him as he pushes his way down the sidewalk._

 

_He opens the pharmacy door and her eyes go wide._

 

_“Is your Mom sick?” she asks in that thick accent of hers and he shrugs his shoulders. He's thankful its Jessamine manning the front today. Her father is a sharp-nosed man that doesn't like people from the Seam. Jessa has always been nice to him._

 

_“Hi, Haymitch!” Jessa says brightly from where she's sweeping the sales floor. “Hi Mazzy, I didn't know you knew Mitch.”_

 

_“His Mom is sick.” She says and Haymitch rolls his eyes._

 

_“I need some fever pills.” He says setting the twenty on the counter._

 

_They chit chat while Jessa gets his pills, Mazzy never stops chattering and is still talking as they exit, the bell of the door jingling brightly as they step onto the sidewalk. She's gesturing with her hands wildly, laughing as she steps down from the curb, not at all paying attention to the road in front of her and Haymitch instinctively grabs the collar of her shirt and hefts her back up onto the sidewalk._

 

_“Careful, runt.” He says._

 

_She just rolls her eyes._

 

_“Haymitch, you need to stop worrying so much.”_

 

 

 

 

 


	7. Jane.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She wants to stay here forever.
> 
>  
> 
> But in her stomach, she knows she can't.
> 
>  
> 
> Beautiful things never last, not fire or snow or roses and certainly not fireworks.

_Awake._

 

_Alive._

 

_Real or not real?_

 

 

_It's cold here. The first thought she formulates. She's sitting on a curb bathed in the neon lights that blink from the window of the diner. People pass by her, not seeing her, not caring to. She doesn't mind. She wriggles her toes and wonders where her shoes are, her feet are red and chapped from the cold, glass is dug into her heels and she registers somewhere deep down that she is bleeding but she can't muster the strength to do anything about it._

 

_She doesn't care._

 

_Has she always been here? Sitting in the snow in just a t-shirt and jeans. Someone knocks into her and huffs an apology. She just stares at them unmoving and unfeeling. Her jeans cling wetly to her legs, she thinks she shivers._

 

_Real?_

 

_“Hey,” Someone says behind her. It's a girl in a papery dress, a cigarette hanging from her lips. Her dark hair is clipped close to her scalp, but she has these long lashes that are curled to an inhuman length, and she has watery brown cow eyes that are too big for her slight face. She's beautiful in a frightening way. “Where is your jacket brainless? It's snowing out here.”_

 

_Her fingers brush her arms, pebbled with cold._

 

_Her jacket?_

 

_Something in her sinks. Her eyebrows furrow. Did she have a jacket? She thinks she did but when she tries to remember it all she sees is a deep black void._

 

_“Hey,” The girl's voice is softer now. “It's freezing out here, why don't you come inside.”_

 

_She doesn't make a move, just stays where she has been. Maybe her bones have fossilized and fused to the cement under her. Maybe she isn't human, maybe she's a mountain._

 

_“Come on,” The woman says, and helps her up and through the doors of the diner, plopping her down in the nearest empty booth. The heat inside hits her like a brick wall and she sighs in relief, a soft hum from the back of her throat._

 

_“My name is Johanna,” The woman introduces herself, stretching her hand toward her. All she can do is look at it._

 

_“Um, what's your name?” Johanna tries._

 

_She feels something tugging at her heart. Her name? She thinks, harder than she should have to. All she finds is that blackness from before, threatening to swallow her whole. She thinks for a long time until the blackness becomes too much and she clamps her hands over her ears and drops her forehead down on the table in front of her._

 

_She isn't anyone._

 

_She slams her forehead against the grain wood so hard she sees stars._

 

_“Stop!” Johanna commands and she does. “What. Is. Your. Name?” she asks again, slowly, like she is talking to a small child._

 

_Finally, she speaks and when she does she is surprised at the timbre of her voice, husky and thick, liquid smoke._

 

_“I-I don't know.” Her voice cracks and she feels her chin tremble but she doesn't cry._

 

_The questions come in waves and each one she can't answer. All she sees before the diner is blackness._

 

_How old is she?_

 

_Where does she live?_

 

_Does she have someone she can call?_

 

_Did someone hurt her?_

 

_People gather around like she's a freak in a circus show and when Johanna has had enough she barks at them all to get lost. She leaves at one point to speak with her supervisor about the woman with no name that was outside._

 

_People eye her suspiciously but she ignores them, settling her eyes out on the parking lot that is peppered with semi's, woman walking between them like ghosts, painted up with red lips, legs wobbly above their boots. Trying to ploy the truck drivers to let them into their cabs for an hour. Even on the coldest day of the year, they need to eat._

 

_There isn't a day off for them._

 

_Johanna comes back with a plate of biscuits and gravy and a mug of tea._

 

_“Can you eat?” she asks._

 

_She shrugs her shoulders, the only answer she can give. Johanna sets the plate in front of her and leaves, telling her she's off in an hour._

 

_She spends too long looking at the plate in front of her, trying to remember if she likes biscuits and gravy. By the time she works up the courage to eat them they're cold. But her stomach is grateful, one yawning emptiness in her is filled. But there are other holes, so deep and black she could never hope to see the bottom._

 

 

_XX.XX_

 

 

_The hospital is too bright. The fluorescent lights in the psych ward hurt her eyes as they ask her more questions she can't answer. They take her clothes away and give her a paper gown to wear, they shine more lights in her eyes. They weigh her like she's a piece of meat and when the doctor comes in he seems too cold, too clinical, he assess her, circling like a wolf while she sits on the edge of the bed, her fingertips digging into the plastic mattress underneath her. They take vials of blood and put her in a tube and tell her to be still._

 

_That part is easy, she's been still always._

 

 

_Always._

 

_The word is like a dagger to her chest, she feels it rip inside of her, leaving her bleeding on the floor. Her eyes screwed shut as she tries to breathe through her nose. In the bowels of the whirring machine she feels locked up, its too tight in here. Claustrophobic a nurse says. They take her back to the room with the plastic mattress and peach colored paint on the walls._

 

_She sits on the floor to wait, cool tiles pressed against her bare legs. She stares up at the ceiling, breathing in the scent of antiseptic and unwashed bodies. Distantly she hears someone screaming in another room._

 

_A nurse comes in finally and leads her to the bed. She gets some blankets from the hallway and they're warm like they've been in an oven all night._

 

_“Try to sleep,” The woman says kindly. “The doctor will be back in the morning.”_

 

_She doesn't want the woman to leave._

 

_She feels like a child lost in a grocery store, all heaving breath, and quick beating heart. Searching for something, anything that is familiar. The fear is the worst, violent and all-encompassing she has no choice but to feel it. It demands all of her attention._

 

_The woman clicks the door behind her quietly._

 

_She's alone._

 

_Always._

 

_Real or not?_

 

_XX.XX_

 

 

 

 

_She dreams of fireworks._

 

_Running down the street barefoot on a hot night, sweat beading at the nape of her neck. A little girl with blonde pigtails next to her, laughing._

 

_Her hand is warm, enveloped with someone else, fused together. but when she turns to look at them she finds she can't, her neck is stiff, she can't see them. They feel like safety, like hope._

 

_There is a meadow ahead, between two houses, dotted with dandelions and dead grass. Well, a meadow is a generous word for it, more like an empty lot where people dump unwanted furniture and Styrofoam cups._

 

_There is a sound like the crack of gunfire and the sky explodes in silver and gold, red and blue and it rains down over the three of them as they all stare up at the sky in wonder._

 

_The girl next to her is lit in color, even on this dark night. The fireworks shine in her hopelessly blue eyes._

 

_“They look like stars shattering.” The girl says._

 

_She wants to say something, anything, but all the words are caught in her chest._

 

_What a sad thing to say._

 

_The person holding her hand squeezes gently and now she turns to look at them._

 

_Him._

 

_A boy with stars for eyes._

 

_Clear baby blues that sparkle and shimmer. His ashy blond hair falls in waves over his forehead and he smiles at her boyishly, shyly._

 

_She wants to kiss him beneath the colors and smoke hanging in the sky above them._

 

_She thinks he wants to kiss her too._

 

_He doesn't though, his fingers just reach up and push the hair from her face. So, So gently. And with the touch, she feels comfort wash over her like water and she leans into his touch._

 

_She wants to stay here forever._

 

_But in her stomach, she knows she can't._

 

_Beautiful things never last, not fire or snow or roses and certainly not fireworks._

 

_XX.XX_

 

 

_They wake her early in the morning, the doctor stands over her bed, lording over her with a sharp look that seems patronizing, condescending and cold._

 

_“Are you aware you're pregnant?” He asks, peering over his glasses at her._

 

_The feeling of comfort her dream left her is long gone._

 

_All she feels is cold dread leaking down her spine and pooling in her stomach._

 

_Pregnant?_

 

_Her hand flies to her stomach and she presses her fingers against her bellybutton._

 

_How can that be?_

 

_“Six weeks.” The doctor sniffs at her._

 

_“W-What?” She asks._

 

_He explains it in the most clinical way possible. She isn't really listening to him, she is trying to remember the boy from her dream, but he's been swallowed by the black void. Everyone has._

 

_She can't remember anything._

 

_She's alone._

 

_No, That isn't right._

 

_Someone is deep within her._

 

_Her fingers dig into her skin. Trying to feel them there._

 

_A child. Relying on her for everything. She, who has nothing, not even a name._

 

_Fear trickles into her slowly at first, then like a tidal wave it hits her. She wretches up her bile onto the doctor's shoes and he leaves, huffing at her._

 

_She cries, for the first time she can remember._

 

_Tears, not for her, but for the unlucky child with her for a mother._

 

 

_XX.XX_

 

 

_She doesn't have a wallet or an ID or anything really, to tell them who she is, but the blood inside of her tells a story._

 

_She's anemic and malnourished. They give her vitamins with her trays of food. Food that no matter what it is, smells like steamed broccoli. Still, she eats it, afraid of waste. The nurse sneaks her extra pudding cups._

 

_They lead her to a bathroom and let her shower and she spends too long staring at her reflection in the mirror._

 

_She's slight and small._

 

_With olive skin stretched over her high cheekbones. And almond eyes that are the color of smoke on the horizon. Her lips are pressed tightly together, all of their secrets stolen from them. She tries out different names in her head and none of them fit._

 

_But they give her a name eventually._

 

_Jane Doe._

 

_Or just Jane for short._

 

_It works for her._

 

_After all, it is just a name._

 

_XX.XX_

 

_The police come to speak to her and she can't answer their questions._

 

_Reporters are camped out front of the doors but the nurses keep them away._

 

_She's a girl with no name and a child in her womb._

 

_What a story._

 

_Snow falls outside of her window and collects on the pine trees that sway in the wind._

 

_She watches and waits and hopes someone will notice that she is gone._

 

_No one does._

 

 

_XX.XX_

 

 

_Dissociative amnesia is what they call it._

 

_All she hears is something horrible happened to her._

 

_And in desperation to survive her brain locked down._

 

_Her memories will return, maybe, with time._

 

_Or she'll be Jane forever._

 

_Her fingers press against her stomach, trying to feel the little human inside of her. The one that right now is the size of a sweet pea. Or at least that is what the nurse told her. As she lays under layers of warmed blankets she decides that though she doesn't have a name this little one inside of her will._

 

_So, Sweet Pea, she becomes._

 

 

_XX.XX_

 

_Jane hopes someone will come to her._

 

_Someone who knows her name._

 

_But maybe they don't want her, Maybe they saw her on the news and decided she wasn't worth the trouble._

 

_Maybe she did something horrible._

 

_In the end, someone does come for her._

 

_Johanna._

 

_In her beat-up car that smells like cigarettes._

 

_Johanna takes her to her home, a small studio apartment in a rotted out building at the edge of a city Jane doesn't know. The walls are stained yellow and Johanna apologizes as she explains the bathroom is communal._

 

_Jane stares at the crumbling building from the car. A man sits on the stoop, reading a worn out paperback book. He doesn't seem to be terribly concerned about the cold, in his studded leather jacket, smoking a cigarette, his bronze hair glinting in the sunlight. He doesn't even notice when Johanna shoves her way passed him with an uncomplimentary name in his direction._

 

_Jane stands unsure at the bottom of the stoop, not sure if she should try to pass him by or not. After a while he notices her staring and looks up._

 

_“Oi, you look long enough love, your face'll get stuck that way.” His eyes are like sea glass, clear and green._

 

_“Um,” She shifts her weight on her feet. She lets the word die on her lips._

 

_“Hey, you're the bird from the papers!” He points at her._

 

_“I guess,” Jane mumbles, her face growing hot. She looks longingly at the door that Johanna just disappeared behind._

 

_“You really can't remember who you are?” His accent is thick and she can't place it exactly, it takes too long to formulate what he said. “What are they calling you then?”_

 

_“Jane?” She says it like a question._

 

_“Jane,” He says as if he approves. “I'm Finnick.”_

 

_“I should go,” Jane says to her feet. He slides out of the way so she can slip passed him._

 

_“Cheers, for now, love.” He says, she turns to see that he isn't looking at her, he's back to reading his book._

 

_“Cheers,” she says uncertainly._

 

_“Jane!” Johanna shouts from the door and Jane scurries up the steps, leaving Finnick behind her._

 

_As she climbs the stairwell, with Johanna huffing in front of her about not talking to strangers Jane presses her hand to her stomach._

 

_Not trusting anything but the tiny person inside of her._

 

_The only thing she knows for certain is hers._

 


	8. Peeta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He thinks they have forever.
> 
>  
> 
> He is patient.
> 
>  
> 
> He can wait.

_Their first kiss happens like an explosion._

 

_It's the hottest day of the year. August comes with hot breath and days that seem endless. Peeta follows Katniss because that's what he was born for, she runs, he chases. That's the deal._

 

_They end up at the lake with its water clear in the midday sun. It's so clear he can see the smooth rocks at the bottom and the minnows darting this way and that and he stands entranced at the edge, watching as Katniss slips her boots off and dips first one foot, then the other into the water and sits on the rocky shore._

 

_He does the same and for a long time, they sit in silence, baking in the sun._

 

_He thinks that maybe she has fallen asleep._

 

_She's resting on the ground, her arm slung over her eyes to keep out the sun and he takes time to study her while she isn't looking. For once she isn't scowling, her lips parted slightly so he can see the white of her teeth peeking out. Her skin is slightly pink from too much sun and her hair spills like ink across the sand and pebbles, free of its usual braid._

 

_She's beautiful._

 

_“What are you looking at?” She asks in a playful voice and his eyes flit away. He feels himself turning red._

 

_“You,” He says softly, kicking at the water, sending droplets flying over her._

 

_Suddenly she sits up, hair wild around her face and dips her hand into the water and splashing him right across the face._

 

_He laughs and wipes the lake water from his face. “That was rude,” he says._

 

_“What can I say?” She shoots back. “I'm rude.”_

 

_He pokes her in the ribs and she squeaks, squirming away from him. A hopelessly endearing sound._

 

_They fall into their easy silence, chilled from the water. She toes the water, watching the ripples spread from where her ankle is submerged._

 

_“Peeta why do you like me?” She asks suddenly, her face too serious for this summer's day. Her gray eyes are hooded and heavy. It hits him suddenly, how small she is. She barely brushes five foot and she's maybe a hundred pounds with rocks in her pocket. Sometimes he forgets, the way she carries herself like she's an Amazon or a queen waiting for a crown._

 

_Right now, she could be a child of ten._

 

_“You're acerbic wit.” He deadpans, hoping for a smile._

 

_She doesn't smile._

 

_“Cato Cleary called me ice queen today,” She sounds small._

 

_“Cato Cleary is an asshole, Katniss,” Peeta says it because it's true, Katniss knows that._

 

_“Do you think I'm cold, Peeta?”_

 

_“No.”_

 

_It's the truth, sure, she doesn't go around smiling at everyone but she'd do anything for someone who she loves. She takes such good care of Prim. Anyone can see how much that little girl is loved._

 

_“Katniss,” Her name dies on his lips, usually he is always ready with words. Right now, he can't think of a single thing to say to her._

 

_She looks older than fifteen. She looks ancient like she's always been here, watching the woods behind the lake, the mountains that stand dark against the skyline._

 

_In just the right light, sometimes you catch sight of what someone will be._

 

_He sees her over the years, sitting just like this._

 

_Scared and small._

 

_He'd do anything to wipe that look off her face._

 

_It happens suddenly. She turns her head just so, her eyes searching his, for what he isn't exactly sure._

 

_Then she leans forward and presses her lips against his. They're soft and warm and slightly chapped. For a moment he is stunned, his arms thrown out at his sides, unsure if he should touch her. Then she's gone again._

 

_She stands and wipes the dirt from her shorts. He can't move, can't breathe. She turns away from him and wades farther into the lake._

 

_Finally, when she's up to her chest in the water she dives down, leaving him alone. When she pops up again she smiles at him._

 

_A smile that eclipses the sun._

 

_And he knows, another smile from another girl would mean nothing._

 

_Had he known what was coming, he'd ask her to smile at him just once more._

 

_But he has no way of knowing._

 

_He'd be living a life of second-bests._

 

 

_XX.XX_

 

 

He remembers just what he was doing when he found out they were going to drag the lake. He was pulling a pan of cookies out of the oven. He has the scar to prove it.

 

The voice on the television in the back is static until they say her name. Then it's all he can hear. He holds the tray of cookies, half in the oven, half out, neck craned around so he can see the images flashing on the screen.

 

Divers wading into the cold water. Boats with sonar cutting through the green water. The tray slips from his grasp and clatters to the floor, but not before it hits his wrist, leaving a red welt where the searing metal hit his skin. He hisses in pain but its lost to the clatter as the sugar cookies go skittering across the floor.

 

His father clucks sympathetically and takes the oven mitt from him. Peeta falls into the nearest chair and turns up the volume.

 

They've found a car.

 

That isn't right.

 

Peeta is trembling.

 

This is it.

 

She was there all along, at the lake where they shared there first kiss. The place she told him she loved him for the first time. The place she felt at peace.

 

She never made it out of town.

 

He was so stupid for believing she was out there. Living a life free of him, free of this place and the hollowed-out bones of the things she had lost. Her fate is shared by her father and her sister before her. Of course, she's at the lake.

 

She went home.

 

He is vaguely aware he is moving but its background noise. He is vaguely aware that his mother calls after him as he slams the back door, running for his car.

 

He drives too fast down the little two-lane freeway, lead foot pressed to the pedal as he veers down the little dirt road that leads to the lake.

 

The police have the road blocked off with yellow caution tape. He parks his car in the middle of the road and runs the half mile to the parking lot.

 

It's pandemonium.

 

They're pulling a small, rusted car from the water with cables, water pouring from the hood, the trunk, the windows.

 

A cold tomb.

 

“Sir, you can't be here.” An officer says, grabbing him by the arm. Peeta tries to fight him off but it is useless.

 

He can't be here?

 

Where else would he be?

 

Haymitch spots him.

 

“Let him through.” The man says gruffly and the officer lets him go. Peeta tries to walk but in the end, winds up running to the old man.

 

“Is she?” he can't finish the question.

 

“We don't know, Son,” Haymitch says, he looks grim, it doesn't make Peeta feel any better.

 

“Peeta!”

 

He whirls around at the sound of his name, Madge and Gale are huffing toward him, running from the dirt road.

 

“Sure let's all just show up!” Haymitch drawls sarcastically, throwing his arms up and glaring at the small blonde, who glares right back at him. "Not like this is a crime scene or anything."

 

“We came when we saw on the news, have they found anything out yet?” Madge asks, struggling for breath. Peeta shakes his head.

 

“Stay out of the way,” Haymitch points at the group of them. “Wait over there, if we find anything I'll let you know. If you so much as move a toe out of line all three of you will be sitting the back of my squad car.” They all nod, and Haymitch turns to a deputy that is calling him over to the car.

 

Waiting is torture.

 

Madge leans against Gale, who refuses to look at anything but the lake. Peeta fidgets nervously. They all wait, and wait, and wait.

 

Then they see it.

 

Haymitch has gone white.

 

He passes them without a word, his lips set in a firm, bloodless line.

 

Madge is calling out to the officer, chasing him down.

 

Peeta and Gale look at each other.

 

They know.

 

She was there.

 

In that cold car this whole time.

 

Peeta can't breathe.

 

His head falls into his hands.

 

She was there, this whole horrible year.

 

Her body decaying in the cold water.

 

Madge comes back, pale as a ghost. She looks so small, shivering and cold. She confirms what Peeta already knew.

 

“They found a body.”

 

XX.XX

 

The car has been taken to the impound lot, the body carted off in a black bag, It's night now and Peeta pulls into the parking lot at the lake to wait. Silent as a cat Madge joins him, then Gale. The three of them walk down to the shore and watches the water, reflecting the black sky back at them.

 

Everything is silent.

 

Slowly more people join them at the shore, people they know, people they don't. They keep a respectful distance from the three kids who stare up at the sky, together, utterly alone.

 

Peeta tries to conjure up any feeling. Sadness, Anger, Empathy.

 

But there is nothing.

 

She's gone.

 

A marring blackness takes over, washes over him like water. Leaving him cold and open and exposed.

 

The silence is punctuated by ragged breathing.

 

They all wait for something, but what?

 

Then Madge pulls a small candle from her pocket. It takes three tries for her to light, with the cold northeast wind blowing, but eventually, the wick catches. Everyone settles as they watch her lower the candle into the lantern.

 

Then she sets it free and they watch it flicker upward, the only light on a moonless night. Everyone seems to have stopped breathing for just this moment.

 

The lake has become hallowed ground.

 

They all say goodbye, in their own way.

 

Gale is quietly sniffing. Madge just stares up at the sky. Peeta shoves his hands in his pockets.

 

He never imagined he'd be at Katniss Everdeen's funeral.

 

He can't do this.

 

He walks away.

 

People part for him like the red sea, refusing to touch him, but watching, always watching. At the back of the crowd, Haymitch stands there, sallow-skinned and smelling like a brewery. Peeta stops walking but doesn't look at him, keeping his gaze firmly forward.

 

“It's not her,” Haymitch says gruffly. His words slur together, he's smashed.

 

“The tests came back already?” Peeta asks, his breath coming out in silver puffs.

 

“No,” Haymitch says. “But I know.”

 

“How?”

 

“A yellow flip-flop,” He says softly.

 

Peeta doesn't know what that means.

 

 

XX.XX

 

Maybe she was a figment.

 

She was never here.

 

A ghost of a ghost.

 

Peeta waits for the DNA test to come back. But he knows it isn't her.

 

Days turn into weeks.

 

His mother watches him with hawk eyes.

 

Then one cold morning Madge comes in, her face pale, blue eyes too big for her face.

 

Haymitch was wrong.

 

He feels his heart drop into his stomach.

 

“Madge?” He asks, she shakes her head.

 

“It was her,” She says softly.

 

The world tilts.

 

“It was Mazzy,” She drops her face into her hands. “It was my aunt.”

 

 

_They walk home from school together, shoulders pressed together as they fall into step. Sometimes when Peeta feels brave his fingers will skate out to brush hers. They don't kiss again but he can feel it humming under his skin._

 

_The want._

 

_Even if he doesn't fully understand it._

 

_August bleeds into September. So many days lost, Bleeding together._

 

_He thinks they have forever._

 

_He is patient._

 

_He can wait._

 

 


	9. Jane

_Capitol City is cold. The snow clings to everything in a thick white blanket. It covers up the garbage that collects at the side of the road and the lampposts across the street. Children walk to school in threadbare jackets, laughing and kicking at each other. Jane watches them with interest as they wait at the end of the street for the yellow bus to come skating to a halt. As they climb in she presses her hand to her stomach and wonders what the child inside of her will be like._

 

_This morning, she doesn't notice the man with green eyes watching her back with amusement until he startles her._

 

_“Morning, Jane.” He says with a lopsided grin. She jumps, her spine stiffening at the sound of her name, the one that isn't really hers._

 

_“Good morning,” Her voice cuts through the morning like glass. He sits down at the top of the staircase, a book tucked into the crook of his arm, its spine bent and well worn. She turns away from him and looks out at the street, now quiet._

 

_Snow always seems to swallow any noise._

 

_“Do you like Shakespeare?” He asks._

 

_She doesn't know._

 

_She shakes her head._

 

_And so begins a quiet friendship. Or maybe friend is too grand a word for Finnick. He's more like an ally._

 

_He starts to read in his thick accent. Fat, white snowflakes catching in his hair. Her breath catches in her chest and lodges somewhere in her throat. She listens to him intently. His voice ringing down the street._

 

_“Where are you from?” She says suddenly. He stops reading and peeks over at her. His green eyes sparkling from under the messy mop of his bronze hair._

 

_“Hackney.” He says simply._

 

_“Where is that?”_

 

_“London,” He supplies patiently._

 

_She nods, not sure what else to do._

 

_“Do you miss it?” She asks._

 

_“Aye, Love.”_

 

_“Do you think you'll go back someday?”_

 

_“Someday, I'll go home.” He says softly._

 

_She fidgets with the hem of the sweater she borrowed from Johanna. She looks at her shoes, bought at goodwill. Everything she has is second hand._

 

_“Someday, you'll go home too.” He adds._

 

_“How do you know?” She suddenly feels warm and slow, like she's taken too much cough syrup._

 

_“Can't stay here forever, can we?”_

 

_XX.XX_

 

 

_Johanna lives in a box. A small, one bedroom apartment with a kitchenette and not much else. There are water stains on the walls that sag with age. Johanna shares her mattress on the floor with her roommate, a little girl whose fourteen but looks like she's eight._

 

_A little coffee skinned girl with dark eyes that watch Jane curiously, though she never says anything to her. Jane isn't sure how Rue came to live with Johanna and she doesn't have the courage to ask. After all, it can't be a happy story, can it?_

 

_There must be a reason that Rue doesn't go to school. That no one around here looks like her. No one comes around asking about her._

 

_Maybe the little girl is lost too._

 

_Maybe they all are._

 

_XX.XX_

 

_Jane waits for someone to come find her._

 

_Like a hide and seek game._

 

_Weeks go by._

 

_No one seeks._

 

_XX.XX_

 

_She sinks down in the hot water, hissing as the water washes over her cold skin. Her back leans against the dirty porcelain. Her eyes slide shut in relief._

 

_“Hey!” Someone pounds their fist against the door, startling Jane. “Hey! Don't use my soap!” The girl shouts from behind the door. Jane covers herself even though the girl can't see her through the door._

 

_She's caught in silence as the pounding continues, unsure of what exactly to do or say to the woman._

 

_“Annie, love, piss off!” She hears Finnick growl playfully from behind the door. “Nobody is going to take your soap you nutty bird.”_

 

_“But Finnick-” The girl gripes._

 

_“Go get Bonnie, love.” He says gently and Jane listens to their footsteps retreat back down the hall._

 

_Great._

 

_So much for a relaxing bath. No wonder Johanna complains about the bathroom constantly. Jane stands and towels off. She catches a look at herself in the mirror. She's still tiny, like sparrow bones. Her eyes are deep set in her face, sharp cheekbones, and dark hair that spills down to her waist. Only now, she can see the tiny swell of her stomach, barely discernible, a tiny bump that proves she isn't completely alone in this world._

 

_Her fingers splay over it._

 

_Who is this little person? She wonders._

 

_Will they leave her to?_

 

_She steps out into the cold hallway, tiles cold against her bare feet. Johanna's sweatpants slightly too big, hang off her hip bones._

 

_There is a woman sitting in front of Finnicks door. She clutches a stuffed bunny that looks well loved. The fur on it has been rubbed off in places, one of the button eyes is gone. The girl is watching Jane with interest. Large green eyes peering up at her from under the thick fringe of her eyelashes. She reminds Jane of a child, eyes curious and wide. Her skin is youthful and bright. Her dark hair spills over her shoulders in waves._

 

_“Finnick says you're lost,” Annie says._

 

_“I guess,” Jane says, unsure of what else to say._

 

_“I was lost too,” Annie says, clutching the rabbit tighter, running her across her cheek. “Until Finnick found me.”_

 

_“Oh,” Jane says, shifting her weight from foot to foot._

 

_“He's good a finding people,” Annie says._

 

_Finnick comes out of the door, dressed in his ever-present leather jacket, his hair sticking up in all directions._

 

_“Annie Darling,” He says, smiling at Jane. “Are you bothering her?” He runs his fingers along the top of her head. Annie looks up at Finnick and smiles. It is all white teeth, crooked and imperfect and so, so bright that Jane has to look away._

 

_“She didn't steal my soap,” Annie says brightly. “She's little girl lost.”_

 

_Jane looks at the worn tiles beneath her feet._

 

_Little girl lost._

 

_Somewhere._

 

_Nowhere._

 

_Nothing._

 

_XX.XX_

 

_The only time Jane feels real is when she dreams._

 

_The blackness recedes and she sees so many colors._

 

_Blood red._

 

_Lemon yellow._

 

_Evergreen._

 

_But the best color she dreams of is a sugar blue, glittering in the night._

 

_Sometimes the fireworks come back to her._

 

_Sometimes they don't._

 

_The boy remains nameless, but somewhere deep inside, she knows._

 

_She just knows._

 

_He'll find her and bring her home._

 

_XX.XX_

 

_Johanna gets her a job under the table at the diner she works at. Jane wears the dress that crawls up her legs when she walks. She ignores the leering of the truck drivers as she serves them coffee and watches the lizards in the parking lot, walking like zombies between the trucks._

 

_Faceless and nameless as she is._

 

_They never come in the diner._

 

_She doesn't have time to dwell on them, there is more coffee to serve, more eggs to plate and always more men, staring at her like she's a vase on a shelf. All leering eyes and hands too big to fend off._

 

_The bell above the door jingles and every time her eyes shoot up, expecting to see a blonde boy with eyes, twin moons of blue looking at her like she's the only thing in the world worth looking at._

 

_Every time she is disappointed. They are always eyes that look right through her, coldly polite and never ever his._

 

_XX.XX_

 

_One Saturday morning she wakes to sunshine._

 

_She is curled up on the couch with a book she borrowed from Finnick. Rue is in the kitchen sipping a cup of tea._

 

_“Hey Rue,” Jane says softly, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from her face._

 

_Rue just shrugs._

 

_The sunlight reflects off the melting snow, bright and blinding._

 

_“Johanna at work?” Rue shrugs again._

 

_Jane peeks out the window, the snow is melting, flooding the road with water. Jane is itching to feel the sun against her skin. To finally be warm after weeks of cold._

 

_“Want to go for a walk?” She asks Rue._

 

_That's how they end up at the park down the street, listening to the kids scream with delirious delight at the first signs of spring. They sit on a bench under the shade of a birch tree, not touching._

 

_“Jane?” Rue finally asks when their silence is too much._

 

_Jane looks at Rue, her curls hiding her face._

 

_“Yeah?”_

 

_“Are you scared you'll never remember who you are?”_

 

_Its Jane's turn to shrug._

 

_“Maybe its better,” Rue muses, ignoring Jane and her silence. “Maybe it's better that you don't remember.” Rue's fingers tangle together in her lap and her feet tap the sidewalk beneath them._

 

_“Sometimes,” Rue says, her voice quiet. “I wish I couldn't remember who I am.”_

 

_Suddenly, the day is as cold as the day Jane was found on the curb._

 

_XX.XX_

 

_Johanna is fearsome._

 

_But, she's funny too._

 

_She's the only one that can make Rue laugh, a deep, belly laugh that leaves her sore in all the right places._

 

_On nights they all escape work Johanna takes them for drives and Jane listens as the two share a back and forth that Jane listens too with rapt attention, not joining in but enjoying all the same._

 

_They drive along the twisting mountain roads and down freeways. They travel from one side of the city to the other, no destination in mind._

 

_Then they go home, to the box._

 

_Curl into separate corners and pretend that they are someone else._

 

_The clouds come back._

 

_Days are dark._

 

_It doesn't scare Jane like it used to._

 

 

_XX.XX_

 

_She dreams of a boy with gray eyes, like quicksilver, shining bright in the night._

 

_Sparks in the night._

 

_He holds her like she is a child._

 

_He's frightened, and she wants to say something to calm him down but she can't speak. Smoke chokes her, stings her eyes._

 

_She can see the twisted metal that used to be a truck, steaming in the cold air._

 

_She, She's in there._

 

_Help her._

 

_Save her._

 

_The little girl with the two braids._

 

_She's gone._

 

_She doesn't need him to tell her._

 

_She's dead._

 

_Her eyes are hot, maybe from tears. Maybe it is blood._

 

_She doesn't care to know._

 

_The boy with the gray eyes holds her tighter when the screaming starts._

 

_Everything is screaming._

 

_It goes on forever._

 

_But the little girl doesn't._

 

_XX.XX_

 

 

_She wakes with a scream dying on her lips. Her stomach twists violently and she makes a run for the bathroom down the hall, barely making it to the bathroom before she retches bile into the toilet. Finally, her stomach settles enough for her to fall onto the tile in a sweaty heap, staring up at the ceiling._

 

_“The nausea will pass,” Finnick says from the doorway. “It did with my Ma.”_

 

_She doesn't say anything, doesn't move. Her throat is too raw and she thinks she bit her tongue in her sleep. Everything is sore, but the tiles feel good against her fevered skin. Finnick brings her a glass of cool water and she drinks it gratefully._

 

_“You know, Pet,” He says, sitting down next to her. “Someone is out there, looking for you.”_

 

_She is quiet a long time._

 

_“How do you know?” She asks._

 

_“I just do,” he says. “Someone else loves that little darling in you just as much as you do. You'll find them. You'll see.”_

 

_For this moment she thinks she might hate Finnick. Hate him for giving her hope._

 

_“Finnick,” Someone says sharply from the doorway. Jane looks up, startled. It's Johanna, her dark hair mussed from sleep, she's dressed in a thin shirt that is too big for her and little else._

 

_“Johanna!” Finnick says cheerfully. “Good to see you, love. How's what's her name, the bird with the pink hair?”_

 

_Jane has no idea who he is talking about._

 

_“Nadia?” Johanna snorts. “Long gone.”_

 

_“There's my girl.”_

 

_“Fuck off,” Johanna grumbles. “And leave Jane to puke in peace.”_

 

_“She likes me.” Finnick winks at Jane._

 

_“Yeah, you're God's gift to women Finnick.” Johanna rolls her eyes upward._

 

_“I could gift you something, huh Jo?”_

 

_Johanna stomps off._

 

_“Do you flirt with everyone?” Jane asks him and he smiles wryly, dimples and white teeth._

 

_“Absolutely everyone,” He says brightly. Jane laughs. Then she doesn't because she's puking again._

 

_XX.XX_

 

_Johanna tells Jane to stay away from Finnick._

 

_She uses the word 'junkie' but that can't be right._

 

_That is a violent word, a cold word._

 

_Finnick isn't cold._

 

_He likes Shakespeare and shares his lemon tea with her._

 

_He is so, so gentle with Annie._

 

_She doesn't believe Johanna until the night she hears screaming out in the hall. She pokes her head out the door and around the corner. Annie is sitting on the stairs in a nightdress, her legs bare and red with welts where she's clawed them with her fingernails. She balls herself up and clamps her hands down over her ears and screams again, loud, visceral. Her eyes far away from where she is as if she is looking into a different time._

 

_Then Finnick comes out of the apartment dressed in only sleep pants. He reaches down to pick Annie up off the floor. That is when Jane sees them, the red prick marks on his arms. She shuts the door quickly._

 

_Not real._

 

_Her eyes screw shut._

 

_Wondering if it is possible to know anything about anyone in this world._

 

_Or if it is all a lie._

 


	10. Madge

_Madge Undersee is late. She shoves her dance tights into her backpack and runs for the locker room doors. She busts through them at a breakneck speed, racing down the hallway and jumping down the flight of stairs and the two heavy metal doors that lead out of the hallway and into the mid-afternoon light._

 

_Its early spring and the sky is a bright robins egg blue. She blinks once then twice as her eyes adjust to the sunlight._

 

_That is when she sees them, Katniss pressed against the rough bark of a birch tree. Her eyes are shut and Peeta Mellark has her trapped, his lips pressed against hers. She should run passed them, she has a bus to catch, but her feet are rooted to the spot, watching as Peeta releases Katniss, brushing her bangs out of her face and smiling sweetly at her._

 

_Katniss's eyes flutter open and she smiles at Peeta, an actual smile with white teeth and the dimple on her cheek._

 

_It's like Katniss has come to life._

 

_Madge finds herself smiling at the two of them. She takes a clumsy step and Katniss steps away from Peeta, her smile gone she looks as somber and serious as usual. Madge can only sigh as she watches the bus pull up to the front of the school and leave as quickly as it came._

 

_Peeta has his hands in his pockets, watching Katniss whose watching Madge, clearly embarrassed at being caught kissing Peeta Mellark._

 

_“Peeta, would you mind giving me a ride home?” Madge says, taking measured steps down the concrete stairway to where the two of them are standing, under the shade of that birch tree._

 

_“Uh, yeah, I can do that.” He clears his throat, not taking his eyes off Katniss, whose turned red as a beet. “What about you, Kat? Need a ride?”_

 

_Katniss hikes her backpack up on her shoulder and looking at her shoes._

 

_“No, I can walk.”_

 

_“Katniss-” Peeta starts, sighing in a world-weary way like he's had this argument before._

 

_“I can walk,” Katniss says more forcefully._

 

_Madge feels her eyes roll upward. “Katniss, did you do the chemistry homework?” Madge asks and Katniss shakes her head. “Good, you can come over for dinner, Elisabeth is making a roast and it's just us tonight, you can help me with my homework.” Her tone leaves no room for an argument, even from Katniss Everdeen. “Peeta is welcome to join.” She says with a wink in his direction._

 

_Katniss is looking for a way out, her eyes shooting this way and that. She shifts her weight from foot to foot. “Can Prim come?” She finally squeaks out and Madge smiles at her, grabbing her wrist and leading her toward Peeta's Honda._

 

_“Of course Prim can come.” She says._

 

_Peeta follows after, grinning like an idiot. Content to follow Katniss Everdeen anywhere._

 

_Had Madge known what was to come she would have slipped back up the stairs and disappeared back through those double doors. She would never have interrupted the two kissing on the lawn._

 

_Madge Undersee would give them back that moment if she could._

 

XX.XX

 

 

Madge lays in the darkness, a cold sweat on her skin as she stares up at the pristine white ceiling above her. She listens to Gale's soft snoring next to her and sighs, finally accepting it will be another sleepless night. She sits up against the heavy oak headboard, pulling her sheet up over her bare breasts. Gale shifts next to her, turning toward her and her fingers tangle in his dark hair gently.

 

It's been a week since they found Masilyee Donner in her watery grave and Madge has spent the entire week comforting her Mother whose blank-eyed stare bored right through her, whispering nothing more than the dead girls name over and over.

 

Madge knew precious little of the dead girl. She only knew what little she could glean from the dusty photographs in the attic and what little Elisabeth could offer. Her mother rarely spoke of her and her father was hardly home to talk to.

 

The house feels colder now.

 

“What are you doing,” Gale says groggily, prying one eye open to peek up at her.

 

“Couldn't sleep,” She says softly, her fingers brushing back his hair as he shifts so his head is resting in her lap. “I didn't mean to wake you.”

 

“I never knew your aunt was a missing person.” He says, more awake now. Its not something the family made common knowledge and as time passed, so did her aunt's memory. She was a page in a book. A cautionary tale to young girls who thought they were invincible. Don't walk alone at night, the boogeyman will get you.

 

But the details of the little girl's life have been washed away. Leaving nothing more than clinical details. She was blonde haired and blue eyed, one hundred pounds, sixteen years old. Last seen walking the road to the seam.

 

A ghost.

 

Gone now.

 

Madge shrugs, not sure what else to do.

 

“I never even knew her.”

 

“Do you think that the same person that got her, got Katniss?”

 

It always comes back to Katniss with him.

 

“I don't know,” Madge says, an edge creeping into her voice.

 

“Why are you mad?”

 

She huffs out a breath and works on smoothing her face. “I'm not mad, go back to sleep.” She hoped her voice would come out soothing but its flat, an empty monotone.

 

Gale rolls over. Great, now he's upset.

 

She waits for his breathing to even out and when she is certain that he's sleeping she slips out of bed, wrapping herself in a robe and creeping down the hallway and slipping down the stairs until she finds herself at the piano.

 

She runs her fingers across each of the 88 keys.

 

Slowly, then fast, like a flash flood, she starts to cry.

 

She cries for the dead girl she didn't know.

 

The dead-eyed mother that doesn't look at her.

 

The missing one that she did know.

 

And the boy that she loves with the whole of her heart.

 

That will never let the other girl go.

 

 

XX.XX

 

 

 

 

Madge is helping Elisabeth get ready for the wake. She dusts and sweeps and mops until the entire house gleams, and it is no easy task, its a big house. She wiping the sweat from her brow when her mother comes in, staring into a void that only she can see.

 

Madge freezes where she stands, leaned against the counter she was wiping. It's the first time in weeks her mother has been downstairs in weeks. She shuffles through the kitchen, ignoring both Madge and Elisabeth, who share a look of disbelief.

 

“Miss Lena,” Elisabeth tries. “Are you hungry?”

 

Madge's mother turns and looks right through Elisabeth, straight through to Madge.

 

“She's dead.” Her mother says flatly. There is nothing for Madge to do but nod. Her mother slides to the floor, her legs bunching under her sour sleep dress. “She's dead, She's dead, She's dead.”

 

“Yeah, Mama, She's dead.”

 

“Mazzy's gone.”

 

“Yeah Mom, Mazzy's gone.”

 

“He took her,”

 

Madge feels her heart stop. Her breath goes shallow. A lump gathers in her throat.

 

“Who Mama?”

 

“The man with the black eyes.”

 

XX.XX

 

 

People are everywhere.

 

Roses invade every tabletop, they're on top of the piano and in the kitchen, filling the room with their sickly sweet stench. Madge holds her breath.

 

She always hated roses.

 

People offer their condolences and Madge accepts them with a learned grace, dipping her head in acknowledgment and offering a quiet thank you when all she wants to do is find Gale and disappear out the back door into the cold air for a cigarette.

 

Her Mother sits on the couch, her head miles away.

 

Madge's father is in the kitchen, surrounded by men.

 

Elisabeth is rushing around behind everyone, trying to keep things neat and tidy.

 

It's useless.

 

There is nothing neat and tidy about a tragedy.

 

Madge pulls at the hem of her black dress and straightens her spine. That is when she spots him. The only one not dressed in black.

 

“Detective,” She says coolly, marching over to Haymitch Abernathy. She feels something rising from her stomach to her throat, it tastes like acid and burns hot.

 

Anger.

 

How dare he show up here today of all days.

 

“Refreshments are good,” He says simply, holding up a flute of champagne.

 

“How could you-” He cuts her off.

 

“I ain't a cop today, kid, so shove it.”

 

All the fight goes out of her. She tucks a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. He spends a long time looking at her Mother, whose still staring off at nothing.

 

“Come take a walk with me.”

 

She turns and looks at the crowd in her living room. Everyone craning their necks trying to get a look around the cold, empty tomb of a house. Haymitch doesn't wait for an answer, just steps out the door.

 

She follows, the wind stealing her breath. Haymitch is already leaned against the side of the house, lighting a cigarette. He offers her the box and she accepts gratefully. There is a long quiet while he lights her cigarette and they both breathe in smoke.

 

“I knew her, you know?” He says, his voice husky.

 

“Who?”

 

“Your Aunt,” He looks at the porch beneath his feet. “She was a nice girl.”

 

“I never met her.” Of course, that's obvious.

 

“You remind me of her.”

 

“Why was she too quiet for her own good?”

 

He laughs deep from his belly.

 

“No, she was a little too headstrong for her own good.”

 

It's Madge's turn to laugh.

 

“Headstrong is just a word people call you when you don't do what they want.”

 

“I couldn't agree more,” Haymitch says, taking a long pull from his cigarette. Madge feels something tight tugging in her chest. Something that has been nagging at her since her mother said it.

 

“Who is the man with the black eyes?” She says and Haymitch raises his eyebrows.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“My mother said that he took her,” Madge looks at Haymitch, desperate for answers. “The man with the black eyes.”

 

“Your Mom is crazier than a bedbug, you know that right?”

 

“Fuck off.” Madge spits, dropping her cigarette and stamping it out from beneath her expensive shoe. “She isn't all that crazy, she just had a hard time losing her twin sister.”

 

Haymitch pulls her to a stop when she tries to leave, grabbing her elbow. “I'll look into it.” He promises and she huffs out a breath, nodding slowly. “Tomorrow, today, I'm a just a guy who knew a girl.”

 

XX.XX

 

 

She lies to Gale about where she is going. She tells him she's going shopping but instead heads for Mellark's.

 

She needs to speak with Peeta.

 

She runs from her car to the storefront. It's a blizzard out here, Snow piling on the pavement and on rooftops. The bell above the door jingles and the warmth hit her like a brick wall. She sighs in relief and strips her coat off.

 

Peeta's bore of a mother comes around the corner and stops short when she sees Madge.

 

“Miss Undersee!” Madge fights the urge to roll her eyes. Madge knows of Peeta's mothers cruelty, though Peeta has never directly told her. Madge finds her as fake as she is useless and if there is one thing Madge Undersee can't abide it's a useless person.

 

“Good morning, Mrs. Mellark,” Madge says, fake and bright.

 

“Can I get you your usual?”

 

“No Thank you. I'm actually here to see your son.”

 

“Rye?”

 

What a twat.

 

“No, Peeta, of course.” They've only been friends since high school. When has she ever been here to see Rye?

 

“He's upstairs, go on up.”

 

Madge breezes by the woman without a second glance in her direction.

 

She's never been up in the small apartment the Mellark family lives in, directly above the bakery. Its small, too small for five people to live in reasonably. She cranes her neck, looking for the door Peeta's behind.

 

She doesn't have to look long, she recognizes the music that's coming from behind a door made of particle board. She raps on the door and steps back as it swings open. Peeta stands there in a rumpled band tee and jeans, a smear of charcoal on his arm.

 

“Madge?”

 

“Hi Peeta.” She tries to smile but it falls flat on her face. He ushers her inside where she stands awkwardly, looking at the posters on his wall. When the door is firmly shut behind them she turns to him, raising her eyebrows.

 

“What are you doing here?” Peeta says, running his hands through his hair nervously. She falls back on his bed, a small twin she would doubt could hold him if he didn't sit right next to her. She falls back so she's laying flat and looks up at the ceiling.

 

“My mother said something the other day, right before the funeral.” She speaks quickly, hardly pausing for breath. “She said that the man with the black eyes took Mazzy.” She looks at Peeta for something, anything to tell her that she isn't completely crazy, and to his benefit he's stone-faced.

 

“The man with the black eyes,” He echoes, seemingly lost in thought.

 

She fiddles with her hair just to give herself something to do. He chews over her words carefully, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. “Do you think he took Katniss too?”

 

Suddenly she feels stupid.

 

“I don't know, it just seems weird, right? Two girls go missing in the same small town around the same age.”

 

“Yeah,” Peeta says thoughtfully. “But twenty some odd years apart Madge.”

 

She feels herself bristle at this, its what Gale said when she broached the subject to him. “It's still possible.” She snaps.

 

“I didn't say it wasn't possible.” He shoots back. “It just seems unlikely.”

 

“You think I'm crazy.” She seethes. “Just like everyone else.”

 

“Whoa Madge,” He bumps her shoulder with his and gives what is his best approximation of a soothing smile. None of them can smile right anymore. Another thing that was taken from them. “I don't think you're crazy, I just-” He looks at his feet. His blue eyes glazed over with something she knows well.

 

“You think she's alive, don't you?”

 

“I don't know what to think anymore.” He says softly.

 

“I think we would have heard something by now if she was alive,” Madge whispers.

 

“But-” Peeta swallows hard, Madge watches his adam's apple bob with the effort of it. “But what if she's out there somewhere and we just gave up on her?”

 

 

 

XX.XX

 

She pulls up to the lake. It is desolate now. No paper lanterns. No people anywhere. Just the stillness of the lake and the fog rolling in from the northeast. She walks with purpose toward the dock, the same dock that she'd jump off of with Katniss on hot summer days.

 

When she's standing at the end of it she stares at the water, green, rocking the wood beneath her gently. She can see her breath, a silvery puff that hangs in front of her face. Slowly, mechanically, she removes her jacket and shoes. She rubs her hands together as she listens to the quiet, a quiet that feels violent now, shivering in her t-shirt.

 

She pulls her hair from its ponytail and lets it fall around her shoulders.

 

Katniss Everdeen is dead.

 

Katniss Everdeen is dead.

 

Katniss Everdeen is dead.

 

It plays in her head over and over and over again. A mantra that makes her sick to her stomach. She looks up at the sky.

 

Maybe she would always be quiet, mousy Madge. Maybe she never would really have Gale's love. Maybe her mother would never look at her without seeing ghosts. She'll still be Madge Undersee. She'll never let anyone tell her who or what she should be, or what she should believe.

 

She believes it with all of her heart.

 

Katniss Everdeen is dead.

 

And the man with the black eyes did it.

 

Whoever that is.

 

“Geronimo.” She whispers to herself, it comes out as silver smoke, wisping away with the cold wind.

 

She doesn't hesitate.

 

She leaps into the lake.

 

She hopes that when she surfaces, she'll be someone completely different.

 

XX.XX

 

 

_Gale takes her out on his bike. They drive the twisting roads, the pines and maples blurring together in a mash of greens and reds and oranges around them. He speeds and she wraps her arms around his waist tighter, scared and thrilled at the same time._

 

_Its been a week since Katniss Everdeen disappeared, search parties have formed and are scattered around the woods now. Gale sometimes searches with them, sometimes he rides his bike up and down Route 12 looking for her, stopping intermittently to peer into the woods and wait for her to come popping out of the trees._

 

_She remains hidden._

 

_Gale grows frustrated, so Madge demands that he takes her with him today. She's regretting it now as she feels the bile climbing up her throat, dizzy with the speed. She doesn't dare look down at the pavement below them._

 

_“Slow down!” she shouts over the roar of the wind in her ears. She thinks he can't hear her but his foot eases off the gas and he slows to a stop at the edge of the deserted highway._

 

_“Are you okay?” He asks and she shoves away from him, upset, heart pounding in her throat._

 

_“Fuck off, Gale Hawthorne.” She snarls. “I'm I okay?” She snorts at him sarcastically. “Were you trying to get us killed?”_

 

_He smiles wryly._

 

_It pisses her off._

 

_She steps forward without thinking and slaps him square across the face. She watches a range of emotions play across his face in the sickening quiet that follows. Pain, then anger, and finally amusement as he laughs._

 

_“I had you the whole time,”_

 

_What?_

 

_Does he know?_

 

_She bites her lip, hard. He's standing now, taking small steps toward her. She backs up, standing in the middle of the road now. His head dips down so he can look right into her eyes._

 

_What does he see?_

 

_“Did you really think I'd let you get hurt?”_

 

_“Well, you really don't seem to like me very much. I can only assume you want to finally get rid of me once and for-”_

 

_She can't finish her tirade because he's kissing her. His lips are warm and soft and his hands catch her jaw and hold her steady against the hard lines of his body. His fingers graze the soft skin of her cheeks, she feels her eyelashes flutter against them soft as moth wings._

 

_“You're a strange girl, Madge.” He says when they finally break apart. Smiling to himself._

 

_But she won't speak because her heart is in her throat and her fingers are pressed against her lips._

 

_“Strange indeed.” She whispers to herself, so only her heart can hear._

 


	11. Jane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For some reason, Jane wants to cry.
> 
>  
> 
> Because that comfort felt so familiar.
> 
>  
> 
> Because she wants it for her own.

_Jane feels a fluttering in her abdomen, a small flicker of life, reminding her she isn't alone. She is so shocked she drops the plate she's holding, the shattered glass skittering across the floor as she clutches the still tiny bump protruding from between her sharp hipbones._

 

_As quickly as it had come it is gone again._

 

_She struggles to inhale any air she can._

 

_Breathe._

 

_Her hands are shaking against her skin._

 

_She feels the sharp taste of terror against her tongue as she bites down on her tongue, leaving the flesh there ragged. She reaches for the counter and leans heavily on it before she can sag to the ground._

 

_She tells herself that this is normal._

 

_But a soft voice in her head says nothing about her is normal._

 

_She looks around the room for an escape and finds it in an actual fire escape. She hefts up the window and climbs over the couch, barely having enough room to squeeze herself out into the cold air. Outside she feels less feverish, less trapped. She takes in heaving lungfuls of air, trying to right herself because she feels like she is spinning out of control._

 

_Chaos._

 

_For the first time, it really hits her._

 

_There is a child inside of her, relying on her completely. Can she give it what it needs? She's a waitress with nothing, not even a name._

 

_How will she explain that?_

 

_For the first time she thinks about how much easier it would be, to give it up. For some reason that she can't explain, she can't._

 

_Because then she'd really be alone and maybe it's selfish but she doesn't want to be alone._

 

_The fluttering returns and she presses against her abdomen._

 

_“It's okay, Sweetpea,” She says. “It's okay.” She thinks she's saying it more for her own benefit than the child inside of her._

 

_“We'll be okay,” She promises._

 

_And for a moment, she believes it._

 

 

_XX.XX_

 

 

_“What are you doing up here in the snow?”_

 

_Finnick has found her, hiding on the roof where she's been since the flutter in her stomach began. She doesn't know how he found her, only that he's standing there looking at her like she's crazy. She's sitting on a discarded crate in a t-shirt and shorts, no shoes or socks._

 

_“Thinking,”_

 

_“That's dangerous.” He retorts, sitting on the ground next to her with a heavy sigh. “Thinking leads to doing, I find its easier to go into everything headlong without thinking of the consequences.”_

 

_“That seems really stupid.” She grits out, feeling annoyed that he found her hiding spot._

 

_“Maybe, but life sure is more fun, right Janey darling?”_

 

_“How am I going to do this?” She bursts suddenly._

 

_“Do what?”_

 

_“Take care of a kid!” She snaps._

 

_“One day at a time like everything else, I suppose.” He says, pulling a cigarette out of his jacket pocket and lighting it. “That kids gonna love you to pieces, and you'll love it, that's all that matters.”_

 

_She watches the smoke from his cigarette dissipate in the wind. She wriggles her toes in the snow. They went numb a long time ago. “Finnick why did you come to America?”_

 

_He laughs but it sounds bitter._

 

_“Why does a man do any stupid thing? for a lass.”_

 

_“Annie?”_

 

_“No, No, Bird is long gone and good riddance to her.”_

 

_“Do you regret it?”_

 

_“Coming to America?”_

 

_She nods._

 

_“Not one bit,” He smiles as if its an inside joke. “Who would take care of Annie? If I never came here?”_

 

_“But what happens to Annie when you go back?”_

 

_“I'll bring her with me,” Finnick says. “And She'll never have to worry about anyone or anything ever again.”_

 

_“Johanna says you're a junkie, that I shouldn't trust you.”_

 

_His eyes darken two black pools of pain._

 

_“She's right.”_

 

_“I shouldn't trust you?” She grits out, an arm going over her stomach protectively._

 

_“Maybe not.” He whispers, looking up at the endless gray sky._

 

_She shivers but she isn't sure if it is from the cold or not. Her hands are red, bones aching and begging for warmth. Finnick takes off his jacket and drapes it over her shoulders._

 

_Why does it always have to be so complicated? Why can't people be simple and easy to understand? If he's a junkie if she can't trust him then why doesn't she hate him?_

 

_Finnick doesn't look at her but she feels it radiating from him._

 

_Shame._

 

_“How did you become-” Her voice dies in her throat. Of course, he already told her._

 

_Why does a man do stupid things?_

 

_“That's a question for another day, Janey darling.” He picks her up from the crate. “Let's get you inside before you freeze to death.”_

 

_The heat hits her and she sighs in relief. It is a miracle that Finnick can fit through the window. Rue looks confused, sitting at the table with a hot pocket._

 

_“Hello, Rue,” Finnick says, sounding downright chipper._

 

_“What are you guys doing?” Rue says slowly._

 

_“Lovely weather for hiding on the roof, don't you agree?”_

 

_“Its a blizzard outside,” Rue seems unimpressed. Finnick flashes her a smile that has the girl turning pink._

 

_“Refreshing some might say,” He winks at Jane._

 

_“Brisk,” Jane offers up softly._

 

_Finnick cracks up and Jane isn't sure why he finds it so funny but she smiles at him anyway._

 

_“I gotta go,” He says still smiling. “Cheers, for now, darling.” Jane isn't sure if he is talking to her or Rue._

 

_XX.XX_

 

_“What do you think, old shoe?”_

 

_Finnick calls her the worst names._

 

_Old shoe, Old toad, Old biscuit._

 

_Maybe its the weird terms of endearment that prickle her._

 

_Maybe its the hopeful look on his face._

 

_She looks at the car in front of her, clearly unimpressed._

 

_“Is it safe?” She asks, crinkling her nose. The car is a heap of scrap metal, wiring looped through a hole in the hood to keep it in place. There's a hole in the passenger side floorboard. The stuffing is coming out of the seats._

 

_“Is it safe?” He snorts. Annie has herself draped across his back. Her legs locked around his waist. “What do you think, Annie my girl, is it safe?”_

 

_“Safe.” She whispers to his neck._

 

_“See, it's safe!”_

 

_“I just-”_

 

_“You're just thinking too much, that's what.” He points at her dramatically. “Johanna asked me to get you to the doctors in one piece and so you will be delivered to your doctor in one piece, so help me.”_

 

_“Fine,” Jane says, rolling her eyes._

 

_“I don't like this attitude you've got.” Finnick smiles at Annie whose enamored with his hair, running her fingers through it as the winter sunlight streaks it bright copper. “You've turned into a Dour Debbie, you have.”_

 

_“I said fine!” Jane snorts. “Let's go.”_

 

_The drive is punctuated by Annie's laughter and Finnicks quiet joking. Jane is feeling more and more on edge the closer they get to the clinic._

 

_Finnick walks her in. He doesn't seem freaked out by the eyes on him as he holds the door open for him. Jane has grown used to the looks that Finnick gets. He's handsome in an obvious sort of way but its more than that. He has the swagger to boot. He smiles at a woman with a swollen belly and she can only blink in response._

 

_He helps her get situated in her seat with her paperwork before telling her that he'd be out in the car if she needed anything._

 

_She's alone._

 

_A woman across from her snaps her gum._

 

_“Was that your boyfriend?” The woman asks._

 

_“No,” Jane says stiffly hoping this will be the end of the conversation. The woman nods knowingly and goes back to her paperwork._

_Jane thinks she hears the woman whisper. "Too bad" under her breath but she can't be sure._

 

_The waiting feels like hours._

 

_Eventually, she is brought back to a room with a white curtain, not unlike the hospital Johanna took her to. The nurse chatters on kindly, filling any silence that might exist as Jane sits at the edge of the bed to wait for the doctor._

 

_She dreads the doctor._

 

_If he or she is anything like the last one she dealt with she'd rather not be here at all. She doesn't need someone to make her feel bad about bringing this child into the world._

 

_Its not her fault she has no one._

 

_Or maybe it is, who the hell knows._

 

_A woman comes in, maybe forty with kind blue eyes and a soft smile and Jane feels a little bit of her anxiety melt away._

 

_“Hello, Jane.” The woman says, looking at the chart that is more blank spaces than anything else._

 

_Just like the rest of her life._

 

_The exam is quick._

 

_She is 15 weeks along and sweet pea is now the size of an apple. The doctor tells her things like the baby can sense light now. Jane isn't really listening. She only feels that terror creeping up on her like an old friend. She doesn't really understand it but somewhere deep inside she thinks she may have been given a child before._

 

_And that child was taken away._

 

_The doctor asks her if she wants an ultrasound, to see it._

 

_“No, No please.” The doctor seems confused but respects her wishes._

 

_They take some blood to test for any abnormalities and tell her next time she'll need the ultrasound._

 

_The receptionist slips Jane a lollipop on the way out._

 

_Its cherry._

 

_Uck, she hates cherry._

 

_She drops the lollipop to the counter with a clatter. The receptionist looks at her like she has two heads._

 

_She runs for the car._

 

_“Finnick!” She rips the car door open and climbs inside._

 

_“Finnick, I don't like cherry!”_

 

_“Good for you, old toad,” Finnick says engrossed in the book his reading._

 

_“No, it's oh-” She rips the book from his hands._

 

_“I don't like cherry, I remembered it!”_

 

_A smile creeps up on Finnick's face._

 

_“What else?” Finnick asks._

 

_Her face falls. She can't tell him about the child. The one she thinks she had. It's too scary to think about._

 

_“No, I didn't mean-” His voice dies off. “This is big, we have to celebrate!”_

 

_He takes her to the nearest ice cream shop and makes her try every flavor, except, of course, cherry._

 

_XX.XX_

 

_The sun is just starting to peek out, rays of warmth that melt the snow._

 

_Jane is so excited she wears a yellow dress._

 

_She regrets it as soon as she steps outside and the chill seeps into her coat but she is determined to keep it on._

 

_Finnick is sitting on the stoop, reading._

 

_He has a friend._

 

_A big German Shepard that looks up at Jane with dark eyes from where his head rests on Finnicks knee._

 

_“Whose this?” Jane asks._

 

_“This ugly mutt,” Finnick says with a fond smile. “Is Sid.”_

 

_The dog certainly is ugly, he's missing half his right ear and his fur is shabby but when Finnick speaks the dog's ears perk, listening intently._

 

_“When did you get a dog?” Jane asks._

 

_“No one owns Sid,” Finnick says, more to the dog than to Jane. “Sid's his own man, aren't ya boy?” The dog whines and flops on his back so Finnick can rub his chest._

 

_“What are you reading?” Jane sits next to him on the steps, the concrete cold against her bare thighs._

 

_“Macbeth,” Finnick says. “Want me to read to you some, huh old trout?”_

 

_She nods even though he's read her Macbeth before._

 

_She loves it when Finnick reads to her. She who is no one and nobody suddenly becomes a part of the story. She's been so many people. A queen of Egypt, A maid of Verona, A conjurers daughter, a mad and murderous king. She listened as words spilled from his lips and became sentences and the sentences turned into pages and the pages became people with voices and feelings and thoughts and desires as real as her own._

 

_“Finnick,” She says finally. “Are you happy?”_

 

_Finnick looks at her, those sea green eyes pierce right through her. He smiles and looks down at his shoes. It's sad._

 

_“What does a happy man need of Shakespeare?” He asks and she doesn't have the courage to ask him any more questions._

 

_XX.XX_

 

_Jane hears the song floating through the walls and like a curious kitten she darts forward until her head pokes through the door._

 

_Finnick and Annie._

 

_Dancing in the dim light._

 

_Finnick spins her and pulls her back to him, she presses her cheek against his chest and Jane can see that her cheeks are splotchy and red and her eyes are swollen. She sobs something into Finnicks chest._

 

_His hands tangle in her hair as he murmurs something soft and soothing into her ear. Jane shuts the door on them, not wanting to intrude on such a private moment._

 

_For some reason, Jane wants to cry._

 

_Because that comfort felt so familiar._

 

_Because she wants it for her own._


	12. Jane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finnick screams at the monsters that aren't there.

_Johanna watches Jane carefully. She watches as Jane moves around the apartment like a ghost. Her dark eyes follow Jane, waiting for something._

 

_“What?” Jane snaps finally, feeling like the girl is looking right through her._

 

_“About time you started getting ready for the kid's arrival don't you think?” She asks, not terribly worried about Jane's waspish tone._

 

_Jane doesn't say anything._

 

_She's afraid to buy anything._

 

_Because She has such a tenuous hold on the world as it is._

 

_If the baby is sick or dies then that's it._

 

_She'll have nothing._

 

 

_XX.XX_

 

_Someone comes for Rue._

 

_It's three in the morning and Jane hears the heavy footfalls outside the apartment door from where she sleeps on the couch. Her breath is cut off when they stop right in front of the door. The thin stream of light coming from under the door is now dark, she can hear breathing, soft and even._

 

_Then pounding._

 

_She jolts up and off the couch, staring at the door as Johanna shoots up from the mattress, swinging the door open wide._

 

_Jane sees something glint in the dimness from Johanna's hand._

 

_An ax._

 

_“What do you want Cato?” Johanna snarls._

 

_“Where is she?” The man rasps._

 

_Jane is frozen._

 

_“Not here,” Johanna says simply. The man isn't buying it._

 

_“Rue!” He shouts. In the dark Jane can just make out Rue huddled on the bed, whimpering._

 

_“Get the fuck outta here before I call the police,” Johanna growls, pushing the man backward, out the door._

 

_“Rue, get your ass out here!” The man demands._

 

_Jane slips toward the bed and crawls across it, gathering Rue up so she can't run to the man. Rue is crying, her hand pressed against her mouth to stifle her sobs._

 

_Johanna has raised the ax between them so the man can see it, sharp edge smiling in the darkness._

 

_The man backs off, stepping out of the apartment and into the hallway._

 

_“I'll be back.” He promises._

 

_“You come back here I'll kill you,” Johanna says coldly, slamming the door in his face and locking the deadbolt._

 

_“Is she okay?” Johanna asks Jane._

 

_Truth is, Jane doesn't know, she's sobbing and her curls obscure her face. Her body is tight, every muscle stiff._

 

_“He's never going to hurt you again Rue, I promise,” Johanna says to the small girl. When Rue looks up and Johanna nods with finality._

 

_Jane knows she means it._

 

_Johanna would kill the man given the opportunity._

 

_XX.XX_

 

 

_Finnick is slipping._

 

_Jane notices he's become more irritable as the days go on. He snaps at the simplest of questions and he hasn't read anything in days. He sits outside with a pack of cigarettes and smokes one after the other, his eyes locked on the city in the distance._

 

_Jane stands behind him, uncertain if she should join him._

 

_“You going to stand there and stare all day, love?” He snarls and she backs up the steps. Almost immediately his head drops into his hands, fingers tangling in his hair._

 

_Jane feels Annie's presence behind her and glances back. She's holding her stuffed rabbit against her chest. Jane opens her mouth to say something but Annie shakes her head. Jane can only watch as Annie shuffles forward until she is standing in front of Finnick._

 

_Jane watches as Annie holds the rabbit out to Finnick._

 

_Finnick just stares at it for a long time._

 

_Then he reaches out and takes it with hands that shake violently._

 

_He buries his face in the rabbits soft, gray fur and starts to cry. His tears soak through the fur and Annie just watches._

 

_Jane slips back up the stairs and disappears inside the door._

 

_XX.XX_

 

_The screaming comes at night._

 

_Jane listens to the muted sounds wafting in from behind the thin walls._

 

_She waits for it to subside but it goes on for hours._

 

_Finnick screams at the monsters that aren't there._

 

_Finally, it becomes too much. She locks her hands around her ears and curls in on herself on the couch._

 

_XX.XX_

 

 

 

_Days go by._

 

_Jane hears Finnick vomiting in the bathroom._

 

_He won't let Annie see._

 

_She talks to him through the door, soft cooing and gentle words._

 

_Finnick never says anything back._

 

_He never makes promises he can't keep._

 

_XX.XX_

 

_Finally, Finally, he emerges, clear-eyed with his hair brushed neatly._

 

_He's wearing his leather jacket._

 

_He apologizes to Jane for being cranky._

 

_“I'm going to be better old duck, you'll see.”_

 

_She knows a beautiful lie when she hears it._

 

_XX,XX_

 

_Fireworks come again._

 

_Bright in the night._

 

_The boy with the blue eyes beckons to her now._

 

_He tells her to follow._

 

_Where the fireworks explode._

 

_She just shakes her head._

 

_She can't follow._

 

_Even in her dreams, she knows it._

 

_XX.XX_

 

_Finnick takes her to the boardwalk._

 

_Bright colors surround her._

 

_He buys Annie cotton candy._

 

_The blue reminds her of the nameless boy of her dreams._

 

_Jane watches as Annie and Finnick ride the tilt-o-whirl. Something her pregnant stomach can't handle. She is so engrossed she doesn't notice the soft click of the camera somewhere to her left, or the woman wielding it. The girl with the vine tattoos smiles to herself, happy with the shot and moves on without a word._

 

_Annie comes barreling toward Jane, pulling her along, insisting that Finnick is going to win her a teddy bear. Jane smiles and allows herself to be drug by Annie. Finnick following behind watching Annie with a sweet smile on his face._

 

_Maybe he was right._

 

_Maybe He will be better._

 

_Maybe he just needs time._


	13. Peeta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She's alive.

_Katniss sings._

 

_The night is cold, the echo of her breath escaping from between her lips. Peeta can only watch as she stands in the halo of his headlights, the rope of her braid spilling over her shoulder. The lake is cold, serene and quiet._

 

_Just like her._

 

_She is singing something he has never heard before, something soft and melodic. Her voice comes raspy, smoky, all husk and pain. He doesn't dare move, for fear that she'll spook and run for cover and this moment will be over before he has a chance to soak it in. He just sits on the hood of his car, letting the heat of the metal soak into his jeans._

 

_She looks otherworldly as the song drifts off and she turns around to face him, her face flush with cold._

 

_“You're beautiful, you know that?” He says and she ducks her head away from him, a shy smile planting its way onto her lips._

 

_Beautiful is too common of a word for what she is._

 

_She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and leaps down from the rock she had perched herself on. She walks with small, purposeful steps toward him and doesn't stop until her thighs touch his knees. He feels the lump gathering in his throat as her eyes meet his. They're like melted metal in the moonlight._

 

_“I think you're the one who is beautiful,” She whispers._

 

_He suppresses the urge to laugh._

 

_“I think you've got your wires crossed, punk.”_

 

_She leans forward suddenly and kisses him on the cheek._

 

 

 

Peeta drives.

 

He doesn't mean to end up anywhere, but he does anyway.

 

The old cemetery at the edge of town. Filled with worn out headstones made of the same dull granite. He sits in the quiet for a long time, watching the snow dumping down from the sky. Finally, he unclasps his seat belt and swings his door open, the cold air blasting against his face. He tramples the pristine white beneath his feet.

 

Ruining its perfection.

 

What else is new?

 

 

Though its close to freezing he walks leisurely, hands shoved in his pockets until he finds what he is looking for.

 

A name.

 

Primrose Everdeen.

 

Written in block letters, etched into the granite for all to see. He stares at it for a long time before the cold starts to sink into his socks and his nose starts to run.

 

“I'm sorry, Prim.” He says softly.

 

But Peeta knows sorry's are useless.

 

They don't do a damned thing.

 

He's sorry because he doesn't have the energy for this anymore. He's tired and useless and his hope is nothing but grief. Maybe its time he let Katniss Everdeen go. It would make his whole life easier. Maybe Madge is right, she is dead and he's just holding onto ghosts.

 

He turns and heads back to his car.

 

XX.XX

 

 

 

He does his best to kick the snow from his shoes knowing it won't be enough, he'll still get water on the floor, which will send his mother into a fit but he can't bring himself to care enough to take off his shoes. He just drags his body up the stairs, desperate to flop down on his bed and stop being for a few hours.

 

 

“You're home,” His mother says from the kitchen.

 

“I guess,” Peeta mumbles in her direction, fidgeting nervously.

 

“Start a fire then, its freezing in here.” She sniffs and pads off to the bedroom. Peeta sighs but shrugs off his jacket and does as he's told, as always.

 

He kneels by the wood stove and begins to crumple up newspaper from the pile his mother keeps as fire starters. He isn't paying the words any mind as he tosses wads of paper into the mouth of the wood stove, yawned open in front of him.

 

He grabs a magazine from the top and begins to tear out pages, ads with girls, all milky skin and painted lips and eyes photo shopped until they look alien.

 

He's about to rip out the next page when he glances down.

 

The magazine falls from his hands.

 

All the breath goes from his chest.

 

The photo is dark, a setting sun on a amusement park looking over a bright blue ocean. A moment caught by surprise. There is a girl, raven hair hiding most of her face, so dark she could be anyone.

 

 

But Peeta knows.

 

He can't say how or why.

 

She isn't just anyone.

 

For a moment he is floating somewhere between the living and the dead.

 

Drifting in limbo.

 

Then he comes back to the world in a crash. His blood beats in his body and his head spins. Then he smiles, wide and lazy.

 

She's alive.

 

It pounds in his chest in rhythm with his chest.

 

She's alive.

 

She's alive.

 

Alive.

 

Alive.

 

Alive.

 

The word loses its meaning as grabs up the magazine and makes a run for the front door, grabbing up his keys from the counter, pleased that he never took off his shoes. He takes the stairs two at a time and by the time he reaches his car he is out of breath, laughing with relief.

 

He speeds down the main street pounding his fist against the steering wheel. “I knew it!” He shouts not caring there is no one to listen to him.

 

He found her.

 

The wheels beneath him screech as he pulls into the parking lot of the police station and he narrowly misses running head on with Darius's squad car. The red head flips him off, even though he's in uniform. Peeta just throws up the magazine as if its an excuse or an answer. Maybe it's a little of both.

 

He doesn't stop until he's in the lobby, it has a big window overlooking the small room where the detectives gather at desks, huddled around each other like a flock of birds.

 

“Sir you need to sign in!” the over perfumed woman at the front desk howls at him but he shoves passed her, screaming for Haymitch.

 

Collectively, the whole room looks up at him. He slams the magazine against the glass and points to it.

 

“Haymitch, It's her!” He yells.

 

Haymitch doesn't look impressed, he looks powerfully pissed off.

 

Peeta can only watch as Haymitch gets up and stomps over to the door, swinging it open swiftly to stare at him.

 

“We have an appointment today kid?” Haymitch barks.

 

“I found her!” Peeta rushes.

 

“What the hell are you carrying on about, boy?”

 

“Katniss, I found her.” His voice comes out small now.

 

“Get in here,” Haymitch huffs. “Sit your ass down.”

 

“Your not very nice for a cop.” Peeta grumbles but does as Haymitch asks. Struggling to stay calm. He messes with the hem of his shirt, the magazine on his lap, an empty coffee cup on the desk.

 

“I don't take kindly to kids interrupting my coffee with bullshit, now, what can I do for you?”

 

“I was-” For the first time Peeta falters. What is he doing here? He feels stupid and lost. His mouth flops open and then shut, finally he settles on handing the dog eared magazine to Haymitch. Haymitch takes it and stares down at the photo for a moment then looks up at Peeta with his eyebrows knitted together skeptically.

 

Peeta casts his eyes downward.

 

“It's her,” Peeta says stubbornly, sounding like an indignant child.

 

Haymitch studies the picture a little more closely. His eyes roam over the figure, darkened against the sun.

 

“This could be anyone,” he says finally. “Sure, it could be her, but it could be somebody else kid.” Haymitch sounds contrite, sorry. It pisses Peeta off.

 

“It's her.” It's all he can say.

 

Over and over again.

 

Peeta sees it before Haymitch can say anything. He knows when he is about to be dismissed.

 

“I'll look into it kid.” Haymitch takes a long pull from the steaming cup of coffee in his hand. “I can't make any promises though.”

 

Peeta snatches the magazine back from Haymitch. “Don't bother, old man.” He snaps. “I'll look into it myself.” He's walking away now, though he doesn't really feel his legs moving toward the door.

 

Haymitch is calling after him. Peeta ignores him, a feeling old as time overtaking his body, bathing him in red. He can feel his pulse behind his eyelids hot and throbbing.

 

Anger.

 

XX.XX

 

He is driving too fast, the thought forms in his head but he can't lift his lead foot from the pedal. His windshield wipers work frantically as he pulls into Madge's driveway. He isn't sure really why he is here or how she can help but he needs someone he trusts to tell him he is right, or that he is full of shit, whatever the reason he's here now, and he can't back out of it.

 

Elisabeth answers the door and welcomes him in with a smile. “Peeta Mellark you are crazy, driving out in this weather.” He just shrugs, his eyes finding Madge immediately. Her eyes dark and wide with concern.

 

All of his courage goes out of him in a rush. He crumples the magazine in his hand. Its damp from the sleet now, just like him.

 

“Peeta?” Madge says cautiously. She's wet too, soaked to the bone. Her hair hangs in wet clumps down her back, she's shivering beneath her coat and her jeans are dripping on the expensive flooring in the doorway. Elisabeth clucks at the mess and rushes to get towels for the both of them.

 

“Why are you all wet?” Peeta asks and Madge just shrugs.

 

“Needed some clarity.” She says vaguely, her eyes far away. “What are you doing here?”

 

“Needed some clarity.” He echoes.

 

“What happened?” She asks, her eyebrows knitting together.

 

“I-I-”

 

Peeta had a stutter as a child. His mother had spent countless dollars on speech therapy and for the most part he came out the other side with his speech in tact. Except it sneaks back when he's stressed or scared or angry. If his mother was here she'd scold him furiously. All that money, wasted.

 

“I-I found her.” His voice is empty of emotion, scared of the look on Madge's face right now a mix of awe and the same skeptical look that Haymitch gave him.

 

He drops the magazine on the kitchen counter for Madge to study and focuses on finding a cup for water because his mouth is dry as a bone suddenly.

 

Because he can feel her.

 

Katniss.

 

He can smell her perfume and feel her standing next to him. He can almost taste her lips and feel her breath on his neck. The glass he is clutching drops from his fingers and shatters on the ground. He stares at the shards of glass with wide eyes, hands shaking in front of him.

 

“Peeta, are you alright?” Madge asks, alarm clear in her voice, but Peeta isn't listening, he's somewhere else.

 

Another night.

 

Another life completely.

 

When Katniss let her hair down around her shoulders and he ran his fingers through them freely. A night she let him see her. All of her. The birthmark on her hip and the knotty curve of her spine and the freckles that dotted her caramel skin.

 

He can't breathe.

 

 _What the hell are you looking at?_ She whispered at him.

 

 _You._ He had said stupidly.

 

 _Why? I'm nothing special._ Her voice was unsure.

 

 _No, I really think you are._ He had whispered against her damp shoulder blade, dropping a small kiss against her neck and she squeaked indignantly.  _Something special, that is._

 

“Peeta!” Its Madge, bringing him back.

 

“Sorry, what?”

 

“You think this is her?” Madge asks, her nail polish is robin eggs blue, he notices as she points to the magazine. He doesn't say anything for a long time, scared of the look on Madge's face.

 

“Do you?” He finally spits out.

 

“It looks like it could be,” Her voice is soft and placating. He waits for the blow. “But-” There it is. He laughs, coldly. He doesn't really mean to but he can't help it. Its too much.

 

“I-I-I never should of come here.” Peeta is already backing out of the kitchen. “I-I'm sorry for your glass.”

 

“Peeta,” Madge tries but he's already gone.

 

“I'm s-”

 

“Peeta!” She's trying to pull him back toward her but he snatches up the photo and tears toward the door.

 

“I really am s-s-sorry,” he says as he grabs the door handle. “f-for everything.”

 

Her eyes are wide and sorry, but he could care less.

 

XX.XX

 

Back at home he tapes the photo on his wall and lays on his bed to wait for a call from Haymitch.

 

It doesn't come.

 

XX.XX

 

Three days.

 

He waits three days.

 

Each day he grows more restless. Pacing the hallway of his house until his mother demands him to do something with all of his pent up energy. Then he drives the streets around town, trying to appease his growing uneasiness.

 

Three days and he's had enough.

 

He storms back into the station.

 

Haymitch is waiting and listens patiently as Peeta releases all of the fear and rage he has been holding onto. In fact the entire damned place listens.

 

Finally Peeta drops into the chair by Haymitch's desk and looks up at him.

 

“Honestly, kid I don't know what you really expect me to do.” Haymitch says, his words slurring slightly.

 

“Your damned job, maybe?” Peeta snaps.

 

“Easy kid,” Haymitch says tightly. “I looked into it alright, the most information I could get is that the picture was taken in Capitol City, Massachusetts by a lady named Cressida Fennely, I tried to contact her but I haven't heard back.” Haymitch leans back in his chair. “What more do you really want me to do?”

 

“Capitol City?” Peeta's head reels. The words come as a whisper. “What's she doing over two states away?” He asks himself. “You have to go there.” He says, a determined edge creeping into his voice.

 

Haymitch throws his head back and laughs.

 

 

“Go there? Do you know how much that would cost? We're a small station kid, we don't have that many resources accessible to us. We can't waste tax dollars to go chasing after someone who may or may not be her. This ain't the damned movies.”

 

“I know its her!” Peeta slams his fist on Haymitch's desk.

 

“How can you be so sure?”

 

Peeta slumps, all of his rage going out of him with one exhale. He feels hollow and exhausted.

 

“I-I-I just do,” Peeta says softly.

 

Haymitch leans forward like he is about to let Peeta in on a secret.

 

A beat of silence.

 

“It isn't a crime to disappear, if she wants to be gone then she can.”

 

Peeta can feel his face crumple.

 

“It also ain't a crime to go and look for her, you know.”

 

Slowly Peeta feels his heart start again. The steady lub-dub that tells him he is alive, here among the living and not living among ghosts.

 

She's alive.

 

He just has to find her.

 

XX.XX

 

He packs his clothes, not really looking at the shirts he's throwing in his suitcase. He's just tossing his coat on top of his suitcase when a soft knock comes at his door. He holds his breath until Madge is standing in the doorway, hands on her hips.

 

“Where are you going?” She asks.

 

“Capitol City,” He says.

 

“Why would you do that?”

 

He's frustrated with her.

 

“I just have to know, if the girl in the photo is her.” He huffs.

 

“Okay,” She says softly, leaning against the doorframe. “What will you do if it isn't her?”

 

“Come back home and try again, I guess.”

 

She looks deep in thought, a thousand miles away.

 

“What do you do if it is? And she doesn't want you?”

 

“Then that is her choice, but either way, I have to know.”

 

Madge kicks off of the doorframe and steps toward him, he shrinks back. She touches his curls and smiles at him fondly.

 

“I'm coming with you.” She says firmly.

 

“W-What Madge?”

 

“Yeah,” she says. “I want to.”

 

“You don't think its her.” Peeta accuses.

 

“No, I'm not as sure as you.” She says quietly. “But, I need to get out of this fucking town.” She chews on her lip.

 

“What about Gale?” he asks.

 

“What about him?” She raises her eyebrows in challenge.

 

“Won't he worry about you.”

 

“He has his own ghosts to deal with.”

 

“I thought we all had the same ghost.” Peeta says softly.

 

“We do and we don't,” Madge shrugs. “It doesn't matter does it? Besides, you need some money to fund your wild goose chase.” She smiles sadly at him, pulling a thin piece of plastic from her pocket and pointing it at him. “And I have my Daddy's credit card.”

 

That's how they end up driving up the freeway, toward the darkening mountains in the distance, watching the town they've lived in their whole lives pass them by in a blur of blue and green and brown. They don't speak, they don't need too. The silence is enough. For now. 


	14. Madge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madge rifles through the layers of paper but doesn't find Katniss among them. She feels a surge of anger shoot up her spine. They call it Missing White Woman Syndrome. The media is selective in its coverage. After all, people go missing everyday, even in the reigning age of social media. They can't possibly report on all of them. So the young attractive white girls get most of the attention.
> 
>  
> 
> The Maura Murrays and Elisabeth Smarts of the world.
> 
>  
> 
> Katniss's skin is too olive. Her eyes sharp daggers. She doesn't fit the mold. She's too much. Too real. Too radiant. It isn't Katniss's fault the world is like this. Of course it isn't Maura Murrays fault or Elisabeth Smarts fault either.
> 
>  
> 
> Just how the world works.
> 
>  
> 
> And no one promised it would be fair.

_Katniss drives._

 

_The engine of her beat up truck groans and spits as they pull into Madge's driveway. The radio blares at an ungodly volume as Katniss sings along with the song. Her lips moving, though Madge can't hear her._

 

_Davey White._

_Where is he tonight?_

_He's sleeping with her in a Tennessee town._

_And he's fine._

 

_I think I lost my mind._

_In my wasted time._

_I'm dreaming alone in a hotel bed that's he's mine._

 

_Bought a gown to match his name_

_Kept my virtue just the same_

_So I could offer to my love._

_A bride he could be proud of._

 

_I was sure I held his heart._

_Till a Louisiana girl tore us apart._

_Watched him as he turned away._

_Into her arms where he stayed._

 

_Davey white._

_Where is he tonight?_

_He's sleeping with her in a Tennessee town._

_And he's fine._

 

_The song is sad but Katniss doesn't seem to notice. Her face is turned away from Madge now, watching the snow piling up outside. Fat, fluffy, wet snowflakes fall fast, already beginning to cover the windshield._

 

_“Katniss?” Madge says, Katniss startles like she was a million miles away._

 

_“Hmmm?”_

 

_“What are you thinking about?” Madge tries. She usual doesn't pry. Katniss likes her privacy._

 

_“Oh, it's nothing.” Katniss tries to smile._

 

_“You sure?” Katniss's eyes narrow slightly, her mouth parts but she doesn't say anything, in the end, she just nods._

 

_“You can always talk to me, you know that right?”_

 

_“What do you think of Peeta Mellark?” Katniss blurts suddenly. Looking a little green, like she hadn't expected the words to come spilling out of her mouth._

 

_“The one I caught you kissing?” Madge can't help a little good natured ribbing. It isn't everyday you catch Katniss Everdeen kissing a boy. Katniss scoffs, looking at her hands in her lap, cheeks burning red. She mumbles something that Madge doesn't catch over the din of the music._

 

_Madge smiles._

 

_“He certainly is handsome.” Madge says. “And sweet.”_

 

_“I think I like him.” Katniss's cheeks are tinged berry red, so are the tops of her ears and her lips are sucked into her mouth, waiting for Madge's response._

 

_Madge leans back into her seat._

 

_“I think he likes you too.” Madge says softly._

 

_“My Dad-” Katniss trails off. Far away again. Madge knows what she's trying to say. Her Mother and Father loved each other so much. When her Dad died it took her mother right with him._

 

_“I think if you can find someone you love in this world, you're lucky.” Madge hedges, her breath coming in a silver puff in the freezing cab of the truck. “You shouldn't hide from it just because you're afraid it will be taken from you.” Katniss looks so small, afraid. Madge thinks of her mother, laying in that bed. Alone. Her father, who fills his days with meetings so he doesn't have to go home and face the skeleton sleeping in her bed. He's alone too, they all are._

 

_“Love is a privilege, Katniss.” Madge plays with the hem of her sweater. “Don't waste it.”_

 

 

 

 

Madge props her feet up on the dashboard. The heater blasts her face with hot air, blowing her bangs back from her face. They've been driving for hours, passing small towns in a blur of light and dark. Peeta hasn't stopped at all. He looks haggard. Dark bruises beneath his eyes, clothes rumpled, a look of determination on his face as the rain lashes against the windshield.

 

“Why don't we stop at the next town Peeta?” Madge tries.

 

All conversation between them has been stilted and strained. She's tried to take over driving for a few hours but Peeta insists he's fine. Practically jerking away from her when she reached out to fix his collar like she was going to grab the steering wheel.

 

“We don't need to stop.” He sniffs, He's been chewing on his lip. He always was a worry wart.

 

“Yes we do.” Madge insists. “You've been driving all night. Its pouring. You want to get into an accident?”

 

“I'm Fine,” Peeta snarls. Madge narrows her eyes. The windshield wipers are working double time as the silence pounds on between them.

 

“PEETA MELLARK!” She shouts. He swerves a little in surprise. “listen to me, we are stopping at the next town and I am taking over driving and you have no say in it.” Her words are a low dangerous growl. She's had enough of men not taking her seriously. “Am I understood?”

 

Peeta looks afraid of all hundred pounds of her.

 

“Y-Yes.” He says finally. She feels an ache in her chest. She hadn't meant to snap at him.

 

More silence.

 

Its deafening.

 

They finally stop off at a little diner off the freeway. Madge insists they get something to eat and Peeta studies a map while she orders pancakes for them to share and coffee. The waitress doesn't pay them any mind and Madge rests her chin on the cool table in front of her, shutting her eyes against the unnaturally bright lights over head.

 

“If we drive straight through and don't take any breaks we should be there by tomorrow.” Peeta says finally.

 

“That's absurd Peeta.” Madge says. “When was the last time you slept?”

 

“That doesn't matter.” He says. “When was the last time you slept?” He shoots back.

 

She's quiet a long time.

 

“That doesn't matter.” She says finally.

 

Then the pancakes come and they eat in silence. Madge watches the rain tapping its way down the windowpane. Peeta traces the lines on the map. She sips her coffee, bitter crap from a can.

 

Peeta pulls the magazine out to study for the thousandth time. Looking at the dark form on the page.

 

Hoping.

 

Praying.

 

Madge wishes she could hope with him.

 

XX.XX

 

Madge drives on autopilot. The car curves along the mountains, darkness everywhere. Headlights are few and far between. She glances over at Peeta, sleeping soundly, face pressed against the window. Her own eyelids droop with exhaustion. That's why when she finally sees a small motel at the base of the mountain she pulls into the parking lot. The woman at the front desk swipes her father's credit card as Madge wanders the front lobby. Pausing at a bulletin board near the front doors.

 

Fliers of girls missing litter the cork board. Some so old they are frayed with time.

 

All of them have the same look about them. Blond hair, blue eyes, petite and pretty. Clean descriptions of girls that like cream and lace. Girls like Madge, girls that go to yoga and buy overpriced coffee drinks at Starbucks. Girls that may have been found by now. Some that are gone forever.

 

Girls that deserve to be found.

 

Madge rifles through the layers of paper but doesn't find Katniss among them. She feels a surge of anger shoot up her spine. They call it Missing White Woman Syndrome. The media is selective in its coverage. After all, people go missing everyday, even in the reigning age of social media. They can't possibly report on all of them. So the young attractive white girls get most of the attention.

 

The Maura Murrays and Elisabeth Smarts of the world.

 

Katniss's skin is too olive. Her eyes sharp daggers. She doesn't fit the mold. She's too much. Too real. Too radiant. It isn't Katniss's fault the world is like this. Of course it isn't Maura Murrays fault or Elisabeth Smarts fault either.

 

Just how the world works.

 

And no one promised it would be fair.

 

“Miss?” The woman behind the desk hands her the keys to room 202 and a receipt. Madge thanks her quietly and shuts the door tightly behind her.

 

Peeta's still sleeping. Curled on the seat like a cat. She opens the door and he practically falls to the cement.

 

He jerks up.

 

“W-Wha-”

 

“Come on, were going to get some sleep.”

 

“No,” He says, wiping some drool from his chin. “W-We need to keep going!”

 

All she has to do is raise her eyebrow upward and he follows behind her. Knowing there is no arguing with her. They both need rest.

 

She creaks the door open and looks around uncertainly. The carpet is a matted shag in a shade of vomit green that hasn't been updated since the seventies. The bedspreads on the two twins is an offensive orange and she thinks she hears a scurry in the walls.

 

Mice.

 

Peeta doesn't seem to notice as he falls on the first bed, already snoring by the time his head hits the pillow. She drops their bags onto the floor and shuts the door behind her. She watches the rain as she smokes her clove. The spicy smoke numbing her throat.

 

She checks her phone.

 

Three missed calls from Gale.

 

She expels a heavy breath. A sigh. A broken whimper.

 

She dials his number with numb fingers.

 

“Where are you?” He snaps at her.

 

“Uh, Not too sure.” She says.

 

“What the hell do you mean?”

 

“We left.”

 

“Who?”

 

“Peeta and I.”

 

“What?”

 

She moves the phone away from her mouth and curses. She takes a long drag of her smoke. Expels it. The whole time he doesn't say a word.

 

“We went after her.” She says when he doesn't speak.

 

“Katniss is dead Madge.” He says, so resolute. The rain patters soft on the awning above her. Water against metal. Tap, tap, tap.

 

“How could you possibly know that?” Her chin quivers. He's never had any hope in her. The end comes in the form of a name. Her name.

 

“Madge,” His voice is soft, placating.

 

The death blow.

 

She hangs up.

 

 

 

She turns the tap on as hot as it will go and with trembling fingers she peels off her clothes. Jacket first, then jeans, her shirt is next. It feels like she's shucking her skin, willing herself to be someone else, living a different life.

 

In a world where Katniss Everdeen never disappeared.

 

A world where Masilyee Donner wasn't locked in the trunk of that car.

 

A world where she could be someone different.

 

The spray of water hits her and she winces.

 

Since the day she jumped headlong into the lake she's been trying to find some clarity and she just found it.

 

The steam encases her.

 

Katniss Everdeen has to be alive.

 

She has to.

 

And they will find her if its the last thing she does.

 

She crawls to her own bed and falls asleep, her hair still wet, to the sound of Peeta's soft snoring.

 

XX.XX

 

 

They're still tired in the morning when they drag their suitcases to the car. Peeta drives, the radio plays a song by St. Vincent. Madge loved this album. Now it fills her with dread.

 

There's a lake across the street, towering pine trees that she hadn't noticed the night before. The darkness had swallowed them whole.

 

The darkness has swallowed a lot.

 

They eat bags of chips from the gas station down the road for breakfast.

 

More endless road.

 

XX.XX

 

“Peeta do you smell that?” She asks.

 

“What?” He's distracted. Trying to get the GPS on his phone to cooperate.

 

She sits up in her seat a little.

 

“The ocean.” She says with a soft smile.

 

His eyes meet hers.

 

They're almost there.

 

 

 

 

_Its Madge's birthday._

 

_January 12 th. _

 

_Elisabeth insists on baking her a cake too large to eat herself. She's forced to have a party. She invites Katniss and Prim and Peeta over for pizza. They eat and watch a movie in the cold living room. They eat the cake. Then sit on the porch beneath soft down blankets and watch the snow fall fat and lazy through the night._

 

_After Prim finally succumbs to sleep they find a bottle of cheap whiskey in the kitchen and pass the bottle back and forth as they talk about nothing._

 

_Its the first birthday Madge can remember feeling happy._

 

_Katniss darts out into the back yard. Her steps sloppy in the ankle high snow. She collects a handful of snow and lobs it at Peeta. Who stands for a moment in mute shock._

 

_“You didn't!” He finally says._

 

_Katniss only smiles in response. Tilting her head to the side._

 

_Madge has never seen her smile so much._

 

_“That's it!” Peeta shouts, leaping up and chasing after Katniss. Katniss giggles._

 

_Katniss giggles._

 

_The noise is incredible._

 

_Peeta is throwing snow at Katniss, none of the snowballs hitting her. Katniss has remarkable aim and pegs him right in the cheek._

 

_Suddenly Peeta scoops her right up. Snow clinging wetly to Katniss's pants as she screams for Peeta to put her down. He does as she asks, dropping her right on her ass in the snow._

 

_Katniss goes still._

 

_For a moment Madge wonders if her temper got the best of her._

 

_Then Katniss grabs hold of Peeta's ankle and drags him down next to her._

 

_They are both breathless and laughing. Laying in the snow._

 

_Madge is content to be forgotten on the porch._

 

_The whiskey burning down her esophagus._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Katniss is singing might sound familiar. Madge sang it in her first chapter. It's He's Fine by The Secret Sisters.


	15. Jane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She understands.
> 
>  
> 
> Wolves are circling them.
> 
>  
> 
> She's seen them in the shadows. The men in their crisp uniforms near the alley. Always watching with eyes hollow and black.
> 
>  
> 
> Waiting.

_The screaming wakes Jane. Its a primal sound from deep in the chest. It sounds horrific. It sounds like death._

 

_Jane clutches her stomach and slips forward, opening the door and peeking out into the light of the hallway._

 

_Annie is doubled over. Her hands clenched into fists around her hair. The knees of her jeans are torn to shreds, the skin underneath red and scraped. Her dark hair spills so Jane can't see her face. But she can hear the desperation in her sobs, her voice shattering like glass against a floor. It puts Jane on edge, makes her fidget nervously._

 

_Its a sound that she thinks she has made before._

 

_Then comes the soft whisper of Finnicks voice._

 

_“Come now, Love,” He coos. “Up off the floor, pet.” Finnick comes into view, blocking Annie with his body as he lifts her up as if she weighs nothing. Her arms lock around his neck as she sobs into his shirt._

 

_He gathers her against him and whispers nonsense into her hair. Petting her like she's a puppy. Only now can Jane see the extent of the damage. Annie has a tear in her plain white t-shirt. Its dotted with red from the blood dripping from her nose. She has a fat lip and one of her eyes is swelled nearly shut._

 

_Jane charges out from her hiding spot. Intent on doing something but as she steps into the light she feels any bravery ebb away. She doesn't have a foe to face. There is no one here but Finnick and the shine of the tears on his face tells her that he wasn't the one to do this. With Annie he has never been anything but gentle._

 

_No._

 

_Someone else did this._

 

_His eyes meet hers and for a moment his face crumples before he schools it back into a mask and goes back to comforting the girl huddled in his lap, all bare feet and blood._

 

_“S'okay love.” He says as the hiccuping sobs in Annie's chest slowly die to nothing._

 

_Jane flounders before settling down next to Finnick on the ground._

 

_“Sorry, Janey,” He says, never taking his sea glass eyes off Annie. “I don't have any tea to share.”_

 

_Jane just shakes her head._

 

_“What happened?” She asks._

 

_Finnick is quiet for a long time. So long she wonders if he even heard her._

 

_Then he looks up at her. He doesn't say anything but his chin trembles and its an answer in and of itself._

 

_Fear is contagious._

 

_She feels it radiating off of him and through her straight to her bloodstream. She feels it right in the marrow of her bones._

 

_Annie isn't weak._

 

_But she is vulnerable._

 

_And there is always someone waiting in the wings to take advantage of that._

 

_The three of them fall asleep right there in the hallway. The last thing Jane is aware of is the smell of Finnicks soap as her head slides against his shoulder._

 

_Maybe it's not just Annie._

 

_Maybe it is all of them._

 

_Vulnerable._

 

_Alone._

 

_Scared._

 

_XX.XX_

 

_She corners Finnick as he comes out of the shower in nothing but a towel._

 

_He catches sight of her and flashes her a crocodilian smile. All white teeth and confidence. He seems like a completely different person than the boy that was sitting on tiles the night before with a broken girl in his lap._

 

_It is like he's wearing a mask._

 

_“What happened to Annie?” Jane asks in a no nonsense voice. Maybe its none of her business but she wants to know, needs to know._

 

_The mask slips. Its just a moment but the smile slips. He grips the towel tighter and heaves out a breath._

 

_“People can be cruel.” He says cryptically._

 

_Jane snorts._

 

_“Oi, I've had enough of that look for a lifetime.”_

 

_He opens his mouth to say something else but Annie opens the door to Finnicks apartment, head poking out._

 

_She still looks terrible. Bruises have bloomed along her jaw, purple and marring. Jane can't look away._

 

_“Finn?” Annie says, her voice is like water._

 

_“Coming Love,” Finnick says softly._

 

_He turns back to Jane._

 

_“Listen old shoe,” His hand comes up and rests on the top of her head. She's seen him do this for Sid. That ugly old dog that hangs around. “There are people that you think you should be able to trust.”_

 

_“People like you?” Jane snaps._

 

_He shakes his head sadly._

 

_“People with power.” He says softly. “People who have the power to give and take away. And they will take and take and take.” He swallows hard. “Don't trust them.”_

 

_Something flashes in Jane. Anger maybe, or pain. Maybe a little of both._

 

_She understands._

 

_Wolves are circling them._

 

_She's seen them in the shadows. The men in their crisp uniforms near the alley. Always watching with eyes hollow and black._

 

_Waiting._

 

_XX.XX_

 

 

_Blood on snow._

 

_Glass glittering in the moonlight._

 

_A scream._

 

_Headlights blinding her eyes._

 

_Rue shakes her and she wakes gasping._

 

_XX.XX_

 

_Annie is chatting with a neighbor. The woman is scrawny and pockmarked with large eyes that have sunk down into her head. The second Jane and Finnick catch sight of the woman Finnick tenses and falls still mid-step. His eyes flash to something the woman is handing Annie. A small baggie with something Jane can't place in it. But the dark look that Finnick is wearing terrifies her and she clutches the roundness of her stomach and slinks back._

 

_It only takes a moment but Finnick is right in the woman's face, shouting obscenities until the woman retreats back into her apartment and shuts the door behind her._

 

_Finnick tears the bag from Annie's hands as she starts to cry._

 

_Finnick is immediately apologizing and crushes the now sobbing Annie to him._

 

_“Don't ever touch it, Love.” He whispers, his fingers running through her hair. “Promise me.”_

 

_Annie whispers something. Finnick meets Jane's eyes over Annie's shoulder._

 

_Jane looks away._

 

_XX.XX_

 

_The baby kicks._

 

_The terror comes back._

 

_She hides in the closet until Johanna finds her curled on the floorboards._

 

_“What are you doing Jane?” She asks._

 

_“Hiding.” She says softly._

 

_“From what?”_

 

_Jane isn't sure._

 

_XX.XX_

 

 

 

_The boy with the blue eyes comes to her in the night._

 

_He has freckles sprayed like stars on his shoulders and she traces the constellations with her finger._

 

_Her face is wet._

 

_She's crying._

 

_“Don't cry.” He whispers. His voice hoarse and filled with fear._

 

_“Don't leave me.” She whispers._

 

_Because she knows. She knows this is a dream._

 

_His eyes glint as he looks at her._

 

_His hand comes up and brushes her cheek. Fingertips warm and safe._

 

_In this dream world he is the only thing that is safe._

 

_“Don't leave me.” She whispers again._

 

_He doesn't answer her._

 

_And she cries, hard and earnest._

 

_“Don't leave.” She says brokenly._

 

_He doesn't answer again and she knows why._

 

_She can no longer remember his voice._

 

_He's slipping away._

 

_XX.XX_

 

 

_Finnick drives her to and from work._

 

_He insists its not safe for her to be out after dark. She rolls her eyes at this but lets him because secretly she is afraid of the men that lurk in the dark corners and under the dim light of the streetlamps. On this night Finnick is telling her a story about the ocean and his father back in England. She's so caught up in his words she doesn't notice the bite of the wind through her dress or the numbness of her cheeks._

 

_And she doesn't see it until it is too late._

 

_Finnick falls quiet. Still. A stone in the middle of the road._

 

_A scream._

 

_Annie._

 

_“Finnick, wait.” Jane tries but he's off, running. Screaming Annie's name. His voice ragged and full of terror._

 

_The alley._

 

_Jane fumbles behind him, already winded by the time she steps into the shadows._

 

_Finnick is a silhouette in the dark. Standing in the shadow. She can make out his worn leather jacket and combat boots. His hair standing in all directions. No, he is a shadow. Silent, stoney, spine ram rod straight._

 

_“Finnick?” She says softly._

 

_Another scream._

 

_He steps back and in one fluid motion has her pressed against the bricks of the apartment building._

 

_“Stay here.” He says in a tone that brooks no argument._

 

_She sees what he sees now._

 

_Men standing in a circle around Annie. One of them says something and the others laugh. Its a cold sound. Annie whimpers. Jane doesn't dare breathe._

 

_She sees something flash on their uniforms._

 

_A badge._

 

_Jane feels bile bite the back of her throat._

 

_Finnick is running. Boots hit gravel and cement._

 

_A man lurches forward and grabs Annie._

 

_They haven't noticed Finnick barreling toward them yet._

 

_Annie yells._

 

_Finnick slams into the man. Finnicks fist pulls back and hits the man in the jaw._

 

_It happens so fast._

 

_The men descend on Finnick as Annie lays forgotten in the dust. She screams at the men to stop but they keep going. The sounds of fists on leather, on skin. Jane presses her hand against her mouth to keep the scream bubbling in her chest inside._

 

_Annie is sobbing Finnicks name. Crawling on her hands and knees to him. One of the men kicks her like a dog and she falls into the dirt._

 

_This sends Finnick into a rage. He shoves to of the men and finds his feet. Only to be overpowered by the other two and shoved against a dumpster._

 

_They hand cuff him as he shouts for Annie._

 

_A heartbreaking sound._

 

_They drag him toward a car. His eyes find Jane as they pass by. Pleading with her. She nods as they toss him inside the car like he's a rag doll._

 

_His feet pound against the window._

 

_The men speak amongst each other for a few moments before dispersing. Two of the wolves climb into the car and drive away with Finnick still screaming in the back seat._

 

_Its quiet._

 

_Annie hasn't moved._

 

_She lays like a discarded toy in the dirt._

 

_Jane can't breathe._

 

_Jane can't move._

 

_She has one arm wrapped protectively around her middle and the other still stifling a sob. When she finally finds her feet she runs to Annie._

 

_She's knocked cold._

 

_“Annie?” Jane asks. Pressing her numbed fingers against Annie's fevered flesh._

 

_“Finn?” Annie says groggily. Jane lets out a relieved sigh._

 

_“No, it's Jane.”_

 

_“They took him.” Annie says. Her voice is small, like a child. Jane is quiet a long time. “They'll bring him back though, right?”_

 

_Jane doesn't have an answer for her._

 


	16. Peeta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He dreams in hues of blue and gray.
> 
>  
> 
> A night that has come to him so many times, in fitful dreams and waking. Just a moment he wishes he could take back.
> 
>  
> 
> A snowy day.
> 
>  
> 
> A girl under the halo of a street lamp. She clutches something in her hands. He squints through the first lazy flakes of snow.
> 
>  
> 
> What is it?
> 
>  
> 
> She looks sad and scared.

_They are all piled into Peeta's car. Madge, Leevy, and Katniss. They're waiting for Gale to step out of the Gas station where he works as an attendant. Katniss fiddles with the dial of the radio in the front seat while Madge has her nose stuck in her history book. Leevy snaps her gum impatiently._

 

_Winter is dying. The snow melts in the spring sun, water puddling in potholes and rivets in the road. Everyone is in a remarkable mood, Peeta included. The sunshine has brought the hope of new life with it. Everyone hums with excited energy. It's why they all took off from school before the last bell rang. The promise of a day at the lake, even if it is too cold still to swim, was just too enticing to stay cooped up for even one more hour of the day._

 

_Peeta taps his fingers against his steering wheel in rhythm with the music Katniss has picked. He peeks over at her, leaned back in shorts and his sweatshirt, her long legs propped up on the dashboard, a self satisfied smirk on her face as she sings along with a Lumineers song. Her braid is messy and tangled as it falls over her shoulder. He can smell her shampoo from here, lilac and lemons. Her toenails are painted robins egg blue._

 

_Gale steps out of the gas station, his garish red uniform shirt slung over his shoulder. It's been replaced by a dead kennedy's tee, old and torn. He looks up at the endless blue sky for a moment and looks offended at the brightness of the world around him._

 

_Then a noise, it takes Peeta only a moment to place it. Loud whispers and crying, the sound of a shirt being pulled away from skin. The sound of a fight, muffled and far away. His head swivels, trying to find the culprits. But its too late, a door slams and Katniss is out of the car._

 

_Her braid swings as her long, lean legs stride toward two people in the parking lot. A man and a woman, both with the dark hair and olive skin that seperates them from the townspeople. The man has the woman by the collar of her shirt. Her hands are up over her face, a cowed dog expression on her face. She whimpers and though he can't see her face he can tell that the noise has done something to Katniss._

 

_He can feel the heat in her blood as clearly as if it were his own._

 

_Her steps quicken, even though she is barefoot and glass glitters on the cement._

 

_Katniss steps forward and shoves the man against a dumpster, his body makes a sickening thud against the metal. Peeta can't make out what Katniss is saying but her voice is hard, he can hear the malice, the rage._

 

_“What's going on?” Madge asks. This has all happened so fast, in the space of a second. Everyone in the car is at attention now, seat belts click out of place as Peeta shuts the ignition off._

 

_The man's hand snaps back and he strikes Katniss across the face. A dull thud of skin on skin._

 

_There is an eerie silence that Peeta knows all too well._

 

_Something red swims across his vision._

 

_The next few moments are a blur._

 

_His door is thrown open. His boots crunch against asphalt and dirt. His fist connects with soft flesh. Gale and Madge are shouting. Katniss stares up at him, her gray eyes fluid as water._

 

_Gale has the man pinned against the dumpster, the woman he was with is shouting at Gale to let him go. Peeta can see the bruise already forming on Katniss's cheekbone._

 

_His thumb comes up and brushes it. Her skin is delicate and soft as a rose petal._

 

_“Are you alright?” He asks softly._

 

_She looks at him like he's a puzzle to be figured out. She opens her mouth to speak._

 

_A siren blares and startles her._

 

_The cops come and they all are forced to scurry for the car. None of them need to be caught truant from school. Peeta's mother would kill him._

 

_Everyone is silent as Peeta drives. Any pretense of a good mood is gone. They leave the seam and the cracks and potholes in its streets behind. The car curving up into the mountains littered with deep green pines and rich, dark earth. Everything smells fresh and clean, sweet with the promise of new life._

 

_The lake is unchanging as ever. Green water ripples in the sunlight. Everyone gets out of the car and watches, waiting._

 

_Peeta's hands grip the cool metal of his car door. He looks over at Katniss, she has her hand pressed to the flesh of her cheek as she stares up at the sky, cool and blue and endless. No beginning and no end in sight._

 

_She looks alien here._

 

_Madge wraps her arm around Katniss's shoulder and whispers something soothing. Leevy is talking to Gale in a low tone._

 

_Peeta watches._

 

_They all try to pretend what happened didn't happen._

 

_They sit in the sun warmed sand and listen to the sounds of the birds trilling far above them, the leaves shifting in the breeze, the cars on the distant highway._

 

_Here it is easy to pretend that no one else exists._

 

_Katniss finds him as the sun is dipping below the treeline, the sky on fire with oranges and pinks. A sight he usually loves, but the cold, sick feeling in his stomach refuses to leave._

 

_“Hey,” Katniss says, sitting down next to him._

 

_“Hey,” He says back. A weird silence falls between them. Peeta can't stop staring at the marred purple skin that is pulled tight against her cheekbone. “How are you feeling?” He finally asks._

 

_“It hurts.” She says softly._

 

_“We should get you some ice.” He says._

 

_“I'm fine, really.” Her eyes roam the landscape._

 

_“You don't look fine, you look-”_

 

_“Why did you do that?” She says suddenly._

 

_“Do what?”_

 

_“I can take care of myself.” Her voice is ice._

 

_“I know.”_

 

_“I don't need you to protect me.” Her voice is softer now, chastising._

 

_“I know.” His voice sounds defeated. “I still want to though.” He adds as an afterthought. Her knees are pulled tight against her chest._

 

_“Why?”_

 

_“Because you'd do it for me.” He says with out any hesitation. She would. He believes it wholeheartedly._

 

_She raises her eyebrow and the ghost of a smile brushes her lips._

 

_“Maybe that's just what we do.” She bumps her shoulder against his. He can feel a warmth spread from the spot their skin touches, humming in his blood from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. Its intoxicating. “Protect each other.”_

 

_Then he catches her jaw between his two hands. Her eyes look up at him and he is lost inside of them. He swears he could look at her forever. Two gray eyes, laced with pain and loss and fire, so much fire. She is so close he can count the freckles on her face. See the thin white line of a scar that just brushes the top of her lip._

 

_She looks afraid so he eases his hold on her chin. Giving her the space she needs to pull away if she needs to._

 

_“Don't look at me like that.” She whispers, he can feel the warm fan of her breath across his face._

 

_“Like what?” He asks._

 

_“Like I am the only thing you can see.” She says._

 

_“Okay,” He says, but he doesn't stop looking at her._

 

_Then her lips press against his, warm and soft. He can taste vanilla and clove and something entirely her own on her lips. His mouth opens and her tongue runs across his bottom lip. She's never kissed him like this before. She's never kissed him like she's meant it._

 

_There is no beginning here, no ending either. There is just them and the fire that spreads from her to him. Something wild and free that he can taste._

 

_Then they break apart and his heart howls in his chest. A ragged breath escapes the both of them. Their noses bump against each other and she laughs breathlessly._

 

_The world comes crashing back._

 

_Her head whips around to see everyone staring at them. Leevy and Madge look teasing but Gale's jaw is hard, a muscle in his neck ticking. He turns and stomps away. Madge watches as he disappears into the tree line._

 

_Katniss is up in an instant chasing after him._

 

_Peeta's heart is torn from his chest and follows after her._

 

_Somewhere deep inside of him he knows that something has changed. There will be a before and an after. A was and will be._

 

_He will never be the same person after this._

 

 

Peeta parks the car at a vista that over looks the city. The skyline is rich with conflicting things. From the rich green pines that jut up from the mountains beyond, to the metal skyscrapers, to the ocean raging gray in the rain and sleet.

 

His heart stutters to life.

 

She's here.

 

He's so close.

 

XX.XX

 

 

They're lost.

 

Madge speaks angrily into her phone, trying to find a hotel with a vacancy. Peeta focuses on driving, his windshield wipers working double time as someone jumps off the sidewalk and he has to slam on his breaks. Then the guy cusses at him and slams his fists on the hood of Peeta's car.

 

“Well,” Madge says finally. “It should be just up here,” Her voice trails off as she rolls her window down and sticks her head out into the rain. She laughs. “I can't believe we made it here.”

 

Car horns blare, people yell. Cities are impossibly loud. All the noises bleed together until they are a jumbled mass in Peeta's ears.

 

He hums a response but the words are lost in all the noise.

 

He can smell the salt of the ocean, the rain on pavement, the food trucks parked along the street.

 

For the first time he feels far from home.

 

Alone in a city that has swallowed him whole.

 

He has followed her into the belly of a beast. It seems impossible to find the girl in all of this noise, in the crowd of people that line the sidewalks. She is one in thousands and his luck hasn't been very dependable.

 

They find a parking spot in a garage made of metal and concrete and carry their luggage in silence to the hotel.

 

Madge has spared no expense.

 

Their room has plush carpet, two downy beds and a balcony that over looks the ocean. It must have cost her a small fortune.

 

She flings her duffel bag onto one of the beds and sighs. Now that they are here he isn't sure what he was expecting to do.

 

“I'm going to shower.” Madge says.

 

“Okay.” Peeta says numbly. It feels like his insides are made of jelly. He thinks some part of him never expected to make it here.

 

“Peeta.” Madge's voice is forceful. It forces his eyes to snap up. She looks tiny, dressed in skinny jeans and a baggy sweater. Her blonde hair is pinned up and off her neck. She looks like a little kid playing dress up.

 

“Peeta,” She says again. “If anyone can find her, it's you.”

 

He nods.

 

“We'll find her, Okay?”

 

“Okay.” He says, dropping the keys on a table by the door.

 

“I'll be out and we can find something to eat.”

 

He nods but he's watching the ocean outside the window.

 

The door to the bathroom clicks shut and he is left alone.

 

They're so far up, twenty floors and when he steps out onto the balcony his shirt whips in the wind, his curls fly into his face but he doesn't feel it. Not really.

 

There is a boardwalk down the beach, the old school kind with a ferris wheel and a tilt o whirl and those spinning tea cups. It's painted in unreal colors, deep pinks, lime greens, yellow that hurts your eyes.

 

He thinks that is the place where the photo was snapped. Its not like she'd still be there waiting for him, though he loathes to admit part of him hoped, she'd be standing there, even on a day like today, wet and windy, that he'd walk straight up to her.

 

She'd say. “Took you long enough.” With that snarky smirk of hers. And he'd just be so relieved he'd grab her up and pull her to his chest and run his fingers through her dark hair.

 

He can see it so clearly in his mind.

 

But it evaporates as he watches the ocean crash against the beach.

 

Because she isn't there waiting for him.

 

No, if she is here, its because she wanted to be gone.

 

If she is here, she doesn't want him.

 

He is an unwelcome guest in this city. Looking for little girl lost. A girl that still, even a year since he has last seen her, has the power to crush him.

 

“Peeta?” Madge stands there in a robe and wet hair clinging to her neck. “What are you doing out here? It's freezing!” she grabs him and pulls him inside. He's already soaked through. He starts to shiver and after just seconds it takes over everything. He just looks at Madge as he trembles.

 

“Peeta?” Her voice is unsure, afraid.

 

“S-s-s-s-she doesn't want me.” He whispers. Madge knows this, it was the first question she asked him. _What if it is her and she doesn't want you?_ He knew the answer but hadn't really let it sink in until now. Madge reaches for him but he backs away.

 

He sinks down to the bed and drops his head into his hands.

 

“Maybe she doesn't Peeta, but you know what?”

 

He looks up at her. She has her hands on her hips.

 

“W-What?” His hands wring uselessly in his lap.

 

“If that is the case she's selfish!” The words explode from Madge and Peeta's neck cracks with the force of his head snapping up. She has her hand clamped over her mouth like she can't believe she could have possibly let those words escape her.

 

“I love her but it's true.” Madge says from behind her hand. Her eyes filled with longing and fear, guilt and resentment. “Peeta, if she's out there it's been over a year and she can't call and say she's safe? That's selfish!”

 

“Madge,” He says weakly.

 

“And you're still here, somehow, impossibly, looking for her.” Madge shakes her head slowly. “That's fucking incredible Peeta.”

 

“What if I can't find her?” He asks, small and childlike.

 

“You will.” Madge says resolutely. “We will. We have to.”

 

 

XX.XX

 

 

They find a small Italian restaurant in an alley off the main street, One of those romantic places you see in movies with low candlelight and small intimate booths meant for two. Peeta gapes at the prices but Madge lets him know she'll pay.

 

“Won't your Dad notice how much you're spending Madge?” Peeta asks.

 

“If he does, which he won't, he can consider it payback for every birthday and piano recital he has missed over the years.” She shrugs, her voice doesn't sound self pitying or even angry, just a fact.

 

Peeta orders raviolis, the first thing he spies on the menu and Madge orders some sort of lemon garlic pasta with extra bread.

 

They eat in a comfortable silence. The food smells delicious but Peeta doesn't really taste it.

 

“So there should be a break in the weather tomorrow, do you want to start at the pier?” Madge asks.

 

“I guess it's as good a place as any.” He says softly.

 

She nods firmly. “Alright, then.”

 

 

XX.XX

 

 

The next morning dawns bright and beautiful, just as Madge promised. They walk to the boardwalk, instead of braving the city streets, congested with cars. Madge has her hands in her jacket pockets, giving him space. Chattering about non important things like the weather to keep his mind busy.

 

But his chest tightens at the entrance to the pier. The garish colors, the laughing children. Peeta feels so small standing at the mouth.

 

“Come on,” Madge insists, grabbing his arm and looping hers through it. They will face this together.

 

“I called Cressida, the photographer.” She says. “She'll meet us here around noon.”

 

Its about an hour and half off.

 

“I thought you might need some time first.” Madge is always so practical. Its a gift really.

 

“Thanks.” He says. His palms are sweating and his heart is racing.

 

Children are underfoot. Laughing, darting, filled with energy. Woman stick to the sidelines, on benches near foot carts, teenagers ride the ferris wheel, laughing and screaming on the tilt o whirl.

 

He looks around desperately.

 

Images of Katniss flood his mind.

 

Her ghost is everywhere.

 

Taunting him.

 

She smiles.

 

She cries.

 

She scowls and dances and breaks and laughs.

 

He whips around desperately but no one else sees her here. These ghosts are his torment. A hell created by him, for him.

 

 

XX.XX

 

Cressida has a way about her. A way that tells you she doesn't give a shit what you think of her. Katniss walked like that.

 

She has vines tattooed on her shaved head and her leather jacket. She smokes a cigarette near the end of the pier as she stares out at the ocean.

 

“You must be Madge.” She says when they approach.

 

Madge nods and introduces Peeta. The woman leans back and studies them. Her amber eyes narrowed by the sun.

 

“We were hoping you could tell us about the woman in the picture.” Madge says, getting right to the point, another gift of hers. “Was it this girl?” She holds out a school photo of Katniss.

 

Cressida studies it for a long time. “Its hard to tell, it was so long ago, but it could be.” She bites her lip and shrugs. “I wish I could be more help.”

 

“I wasn't trying to take a picture of her, she got in the way of the sunset.” Cressida says gruffly. “Though I should probably thank her. Four different magazine's bought that photo.” She winks at Peeta and he shifts uncomfortably on the pier that wobbles and dips on top of the water.

 

“S-so you didn't talk to her?” Peeta says, heart sinking into his shoes.

 

She shakes her head. “No.” She sounds actually regretful.

 

“Anything you noticed about her?”

 

Cressida thinks for awhile. Her brows furrow together. “She was with a man, tall with kinda reddish brown hair... He was really good looking and a girl, with dark hair that talked to herself a lot.” Peeta feels his heart drop again. He works on keeping his face a mask.

 

“Alright, thank you.” Madge pulls on his arm. “Thank you for taking time to meet with us. Come on Peeta.” This won't do. Not at all, he got no answers from this woman.

 

“Was she hurt? Did she look scared? Was she too skinny?” All of the words flood up from somewhere deep inside of him. These are things he needs to know. Things that have gnawed at his brain since Katniss drove off in that truck.

 

He needs the answers like he needs air.

 

“Um, I wouldn't say that she was skinny.” Cressida arches her eyebrow in his direction.

 

“W-w-what d-d-does that mean?” His stammer is back with a vengeance.

 

“Um, she was pregnant.” His fist tightens around her jacket sleeve, holding the woman there. Peeta hadn't noticed that he had clutched to her. He lets her go and she stumbles back a bit.

 

It takes too long for the words to process in his head. What?

 

Pregnant?

 

Then despair. It's not her. His Katniss wasn't pregnant. It's not her. He's chasing a smoke dragon. Some one else entirely.

 

“Pregnant?” Madge echoes. “Are you sure?”

 

“Yep, she definitely had a bun in the oven.”

 

“It's not her.” Peeta says brokenly.

 

He repeats it again as Madge stares at him, mouth open.

 

“It's not possible at all?” Madge asks him pointedly. “That she was pregnant.”

 

His eyes meet hers, blue on blue.

 

She couldn't be pregnant. Because that way lies a future too heartbreaking to consider. That he lost something he never even knew he had. Something else he had lost that night when he let her drive away.

 

 

XX.XX

 

He dreams in hues of blue and gray.

 

A night that has come to him so many times, in fitful dreams and waking. Just a moment he wishes he could take back.

 

A snowy day.

 

A girl under the halo of a street lamp. She clutches something in her hands. He squints through the first lazy flakes of snow.

 

What is it?

 

She looks sad and scared.

 

 

He should go to help her.

 

 

He can't move from the shadows that encase him from her view.

 

 

Her fingers flex against the thing in her hands. She shoves it into her pocket. What is it?

 

 

Its thin and white.

 

Peeta gasps awake. He is slick with sweat and his bedsheets are soaked with it. The word pregnant swims at the edges of his lips.

 

“Madge.” He jolts across the room and shakes her awake.

 

“What the fuck, Peeta?” She mumbles, throwing her pillow over her head and flipping over.

 

“Madge, wake up.”

 

He's ready to burst. All the secrets he's kept. This was the worst one.

 

“Madge,” He persists, giving her another shake. She shoots up.

 

“What?” She wipes the sleep from her eyes. Her ponytail is wild around her face.

 

It all spills from his chest.

 

Every bit of that night he's been holding in. Seeing Katniss at the liquor store. Her climbing into the truck. Even that she had something in her hand. Madge listens, not interrupting him once.

 

“I know what it was, in her hand.” He says softly.

 

“What? What was it?” She growls at him. Her eyes are hard, she's so angry with him.

 

He falls backward, buries his face in his hands.

 

“A pregnancy test.” He whispers.

 

There is a beat of silence.

 

Then Madge slaps him square across his face.

 

XX.XX

 

 

She's still mad at him.

 

“I can't believe you didn't tell anyone!” She screams in his face the next morning. “Not me, Not Gale, not the police! Peeta, You should of told someone!”

 

“I know.” It's all he can say.

 

“In those hours we were looking for her. We walked side by side, combing the woods for her _fucking body_ and you didn't say a damned thing!” Her voice gets louder with each word.

 

Peeta hangs his head.

 

“Why?” Her voice is pleading.

 

“Because, I thought she didn't want to be found.” It sounds pathetic. It is pathetic. He's pathetic.

 

“Peeta-”

 

“B-b-because it's w-what we do,” He says brokenly. “W-we p-p-protect each other.”

 

She just shakes her head. She grabs her jacket.

 

“Where are you g-going?” He asks.

 

Madge slamming the door behind her is his answer.

 

 

 

XX.XX

 

 

_A song plays softly on the old boombox Sae keeps on her counter. Peeta steps inside and sees Katniss mopping, her back to him as she dances with the song, her hips swaying with the beat._

 

_I'd go the whole wide world, I'd go the whole wide world just to find her._

_I'd go the whole wide world, I'd go the whole wide world to find out where they hide her._

_I'd go the whole wide world, I'd go the whole wide world just to find her._

 

_Peeta smiles crookedly and peels his jacket off as quietly as he can. He takes a step forward and she whirls around. Blue meets gray and something shifts inside of them both. A soft laugh escapes him and he leans against a chair._

 

_“I like the song.” He says._

 

_“Cage the Elephant.” She answers._

 

_The diner is empty._

 

_Just the two of them._

 

_Something has charged the air around them._

 

_“You want to dance?” Peeta asks and Katniss looks around for anyone who might see them. When her gaze falls on him she shakes her head, a mischievous glint in her eye._

 

_“No, No I don't think so.” She says huskily._

 

_“What did you have in mind?” He teases._

 

_She rushes forward and crashes right into him. She's all around him. Her whole body presses against him and he stumbles back into the wall behind him. Her lips are on his in an instant. Her hands tangled in his hair._

 

_Her legs hitch around his hips and his hands are splayed across her back, holding her against him._

 

_“Is this real?” He asks against her lips._

 

_Everything thrums with her proximity. The world could be falling down around them and he wouldn't notice anything beyond the way her hips press against his._

 

_Because there has to be a catch._

 

_“It's real.” She breathes. “Real.”_

 

_“Just checking.” Then his lips are on hers again in an instant._

 

_When they finally pull apart there is another song on the radio. Katniss blushes from the roots of her hair down to her toes. Peeta feels his cheeks warming too._

 

_They just look at each other._

 

_And the world falls still._

 

_Its this exact moment he realizes._

 

_There will never be anyone else._

 

_No one that could hold his attentions like the girl in front of him. He'll never want to kiss anyone else. Never want to see that pleasant blush on anyone else. No one else's eyes will be so pretty. This is it for him._

 

_No one he'd rather be with._

 

_He has no way of knowing._

 

_Time is already running out._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song credits.  
> Whole Wide World by Cage the Elephant.  
> I didn't mention the song title but in my head the song Katniss is listening to in the car is Flowers in your hair by The Lumineers.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed this latest installment!


	17. Haymitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hiding and seeking.
> 
>  
> 
> Hiding and seeking.

_Haymitch is good at seeking._

 

_Masilyee is good at hiding._

 

_From his perch in an old oak tree he watches as she slips between the sheets her mother hangs from a laundry line in their back yard. They billow in the wind as she runs on bare feet through the dead grass. Her giggles punctuate the silence of the early evening air._

 

_Everything is just a little sweeter here. From the mason jars that line the windowsills, waiting for her mother to fill them with strawberry preserves and pickled green beans. To the old shed where they store the firewood stockpile for winter. To the fireflies that dance in the warm summer twilight._

 

_This place is a home. A real one. Not like the junkyard where his father is always yelling and his mother walks like a cowed dog, flinching at the slightest movement. The place where his baby brother cries and cries long into the night with no one to comfort him._

 

_The wind catches Masilyee's hair and it whips around her face as she ducks behind the house and disappears from view._

 

_“You better not be Peeking Haymitch Abernathy!” She calls._

 

_He hums something but he doesn't shut his eyes._

 

 

_Lena comes out onto the porch and eyes him with something approaching suspicion. The screen door clatters behind her as she places her hands on her hips. Many people can't tell the difference between Lena and Mazzy, but Haymitch can. While they both have the startling blue eyes and star white blonde hair, Lena is more serious, her lips always pulled into a frown. Mazzy is mischievous, a glint in her eyes that suggests she is in on a joke and your not._

 

_“You two best not be messing up Mama's laundry!” Lena calls out._

 

_There mother took sick a couple years back, stomach cancer, and she's often bedridden. Their father is gone at the sweetshop a lot, always working, so its up to Lena to corral Mazzy and make sure she doesn't get her church clothes messed up, or to patch her school dress._

 

_Haymitch leaps down from the tree and wades through the dead grass._

 

_He follows in the direction Mazzy went, ignoring Lena's watchful gaze from the porch._

 

_“You looking for me?” Mazzy calls out excitedly._

 

_He can see her foot hanging out from under the porch._

 

_“Where could Mazzy be?” He says. The foot disappears._

 

_“Where could she be?”_

 

_He can hear her stifled giggle._

 

_He pokes his head under the porch and she laughs._

 

_Its all he can hear. That tinkling giggle, breathless and happy._

 

_Then her feet as she runs._

 

_He can't catch up._

 

 

 

 

 

Its a rusted lump of metal, it used to be a car, a grave. The trunk was yanked open with such force that it won't latch anymore. It sits like a ghost at the edge of the impound lot.

 

Haymitch stares at it, eyes narrowed in the winter sun.

 

Sometimes he thinks he can still hear her laughing in the summer heat.

 

He can still feel the sun beating against his hand patched shirts. Its so real he swears that even though its frigid, sweat beads at his hairline.

 

He edges toward the car. Ignoring Darius calling out to him.

 

The trunk is molded and smells like human remains. It is so thick he pulls his shirt up over his nose.

 

Here it is.

 

Mazzy's grave.

 

Her body is in the morgue, on a cold slab of metal. They've poked and prodded the rotting lump of flesh and now she waits for burial. For someone to come and claim her up.

 

Haymitch knew it was her the second the trunk was pried open. As the stench of blood and death hit him he saw the yellow flip flop and felt something sink into his spine. Something slow and hot and aching.

 

The yellow shoe haunts him.

 

Because the match sits in the evidence locker. In a box marked with her name. A shoe he hasn't seen since he was sixteen years old. And he found it on the side of the highway, laying discarded in the dust.

 

The moment he knew something awful had happened to Masilyee Donner.

 

“Haymitch?” Darius calls. He touches Haymitch and he jolts back.

 

“What?” Haymitch snaps.

 

“You've been staring at that trunk for ten minutes.”

 

“I'm fine.”

 

“Okay.” Darius says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know you knew Masilyee.” He says ruefully. “Must not be easy to see.”

 

Haymitch turns back to the trunk. He doesn't want to, but for a moment he sees the little girls last moments. Water filling a trunk, filling her lungs. Desperate cries in the darkness. Then nothing.

 

Emptiness.

 

“I'm fine.” Haymitch says, though he knows he isn't convincing anyone.

 

“If you say so, Boss.” Darius says.

 

“Lena Undersee said that the man with the black eyes took Masilyee,” Haymitch runs his fingers along the edge of the trunk.

 

He tells himself not think of the water. He tells himself not to imagine her cries for help. He turns back to Darius. His breath is sharp in the cold air.

 

“Who do you think that is?”

 

“Who knows, Could be anyone, she's nuts.”

 

“She ain't always been that way. She used to take care of Mazzy.”

 

“Sir, you sure you should be working this case?”

 

“You questioning me, Son? You think I can't handle this?”

 

“No, Sir.”

 

Don't think about water.

 

Don't think about the water.

 

It must have been freezing.

 

He turns abruptly and walks away from Darius.

 

Don't think.

 

Don't think.

 

Don't think.

 

 

XX.XX

 

 

Elisabeth lets him into her room.

 

She's sleeping, her back to him.

 

Her hair is no longer blonde.

 

Its thin and lank down her back.

 

“Lena?” He says gruffly.

 

She is still so long he thinks she didn't hear him, but then she turns slowly. Her back creaking with the effort. She sits up against her headboard and stares at him a long time.

 

“I saw you at her wake.” She says simply. Her voice isn't how he remembered it. Its soft and empty.

 

“I saw you too.” He says simply.

 

“I guess I should apologize to you.” She says, her lips pursing together in a tight line.

 

“Ain't no need.” He says.

 

“The entire town turned on you.” She turns to look at him, her eyes are like the rest of her. Cold and dead as a sharks.

 

“That's over now, Lena.” He says. “I came to ask you about what you told Madge.”

 

She smiles at the sound of Madge's name. A fondness only a mother could have. Her eyes flash with life for the first time.

 

“Margret.” She says with a tilt of her lips. “She's so much like her.”

 

“She said you told her the man with the black eyes took her.” His voice comes harsh, he takes a step back, a breath.

 

The light is gone.

 

“The man,” She says. “He watches her.”

 

“Who?”

 

“I don't know his name.”

 

“What did he look like?”

 

She is silent a long time and Haymitch barely dares to breathe. Doesn't dare interrupt her memories. She is far away, living among the sheets billowing in the wind, the mason jars, the fireflies.

 

“A snake in the grass.” She whispers finally. “And Mazzy was the prey.”

 

 

XX.XX

 

He is swallowed by the bowels of the building.

 

No one likes the evidence locker, its a dank basement manned by one old man that putters around the boxes and smells like menthol cigarettes. Haymitch signs the ledger at the desk and walks the room until he finds her name.

 

He pulls the one measly box down and sets it on the ground.

 

A file folder, a yellow flip-flop, a few photographs of disturbed dirt at the side of the road. That's it.

 

That's all he's got.

 

He still remembers the way the sun felt on his back. The eerie quiet that hung in the air. The way the earth was moved, like someone had struggled. The way the weeds were bent under someone's feet.

 

The way the shoe lay on its side in the dirt, waiting for him to find it.

 

The sickness of dread as it spread through his body.

 

He opens the file folder. He remembers the cop that interviewed him back then. A gruff guy with sun baked skin and an ever present toothpick hanging out of his mouth. Eyes narrowed by the sun.

 

That man went to his grave thinking Haymitch had something to do with Masilyee's disappearance.

 

Why would a seam boy and a merchant girl ever be friends? What did they even have in common? Haymitch was older, too tall, an imposing presence in the little girls life. A boy that could be a man. From the poorest part of town, a drunk for a father and you know what they say about apples and trees.

 

He sees his own name scrawled in the notes.

 

“Boy has a problem with authority.” The man had wrote. “He has a suspicious manner.” He says on another page.

 

It makes Haymitch laugh bitterly.

 

They wasted so much time on him.

 

They wasted so much time.

 

He isn't sure if he blames them or not. He'd probably be suspicious of a boy like him, if he were a cop then.

 

He thinks back hard. To the police with there thin pressed line of lips. The stooped detective that watched him with eyes as dark as midnight.

 

Haymitch feels something splinter deep within him. His thoughts are like glass shattering against a floor.

 

The man with black eyes watches them all.

 

Suddenly he knows.

 

That time wasn't wasted at all.

 

 

 

XX.XX

 

He flicks the radio off as he pulls his car up to the big tomb of a home where Lena resides. Elisabeth lets him in with a gruff expel of his own name. He stands in the foyer as Lena comes down the stairs. Dressed in a housecoat but her hair is braided over her shoulder.

 

“I don't think I'll ever get used to calling you detective, Detective Abernathy.”

 

“I think we can skip formality, Lena,” He says, the file folder hanging from his fingertips. “Haymitch is fine.”

 

“ Well, what brings you by Haymitch?” The name sounds wooden on her tongue. She leans heavily against the railing as she walks. She isn't the strong little girl watching him from the porch anymore. Her skin has a gray pallor to it. Her back is stooped.

 

“I wanted to ask you about Mazzy's last day.”

 

“I would have thought that would be a worn out story by now.” They sit in the kitchen and Elisabeth puts a kettle on for tea. Its so cold in the house.

 

“I'd prefer to hear it from you.”

 

“We went to church, came home and had lunch...” She falls quiet for a long time. Lost in her memories. Haymitch waits, tapping his tobacco stained fingers against the grain of the wood table. Elisabeth sets down cups of steaming tea in front of them. He stays as still as he dares. Waiting.

 

“She said she was going to see you and took off.” She finishes finally. Her eyes dart around the room, looking for a safe space to land. Finally they land on Haymitch and the pain in her face is enough to make him cringe backward.

 

All those years she lived with this.

 

Her family torn apart.

 

Her twin sister gone.

 

In the space of a single second.

 

Her eyes well up with water and her tears spill down her cheeks and hit the table. “I never saw her again.”

 

Haymitch snakes his hand out and touches her fingertips gently. She looks confused at it breaks his heart. All these years, she carried this alone.

 

“So many years have gone by. I feel like I've been pulled in half.” She sniffles and wipes her eyes. “I'm sorry for what I did to you.”

 

“You were just a kid, Lena.” He says with a shrug. “Lot of years have gone by.”

 

“Still, I should have begged your forgiveness years ago.”

 

Haymitch chuckles gruffly.

 

“If you want forgiveness, you don't need to ask. You're forgiven.”

 

“That's more than I ever hoped for.” She says.

 

“I lost my daughter. Years ago.” He whispers. The first time he's spoken of the little dark haired girl in so many years, he had feared her name had been forgotten. It wasn't of course, just waiting for him to catch up. “It puts things in perspective I guess.”

 

They are both quiet for a long time. Lost in grief, alone in their togetherness.

 

“I'm sorry about your daughter.” Lena whispers finally.

 

“I'm sorry about your sister.” He says and when the words escape his lips he means it. She looks shocked for a moment. He wonders if anyone has ever really told her this.

 

“Thank you.”

 

Wounds open and close, they braid into scars and they reopen again. Life is constant breaking and healing.

 

Their fingers are twined together.

 

There is comfort in their mutual brokenness.

 

 

XX.XX

 

 

 

 

_Hiding and seeking._

 

_Hiding and seeking._

 

 

_Masilyee hides._

 

_Haymitch seeks._

 

_That is the game._

 


	18. Jane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I can be a good man.”

_Jane coaxes Annie into the bathroom and turns on the tap. Annie allows herself to be led and sits like a lump while Jane cleans her scrapes, cringing away from Jane as she lifts a soaked dish towel to her knee. Neither girl speaks. The only noise around is the roaring of the water in sink and buzzing of the overhead light. Annie presses her palms against her jeans and sniffles. Her skin is splotched with red, from tears or cold or maybe both._

 

_The quiet is suffocating._

 

_“Annie, let's get you to bed.” Jane tries. Annie makes no movement, its almost like Jane never even spoke. “Annie.” She insists, shaking her shoulder. That's when she really looks at Jane. Green eyes piercing._

 

_“Finnick?” She says. It's like she's a child asking for a toy._

 

_“I don't know when he'll be back.” Jane says with a hard breath. Annie nods and goes back to staring at the tile on the floor. “Annie? Annie?” Her voice is strong but Annie refuses to move. The only person that can reach her when she's like this is Finnick and who knows where they took him or when he'll be back._

 

_Jane slides down against the tub, falling at Annie's feet. They sit like that for a long time. Jane is exhausted. Still in her uniform and covered in dirt and grime. The ponytail she pulled her hair into is slowly unraveling and chunks of hair fall into her face._

 

_Something funny happens then._

 

_She starts to sing._

 

_The words come from somewhere deep within her. She doesn't know how she knows the song, but its sad and sweet and with each word she feels something rip through the darkness. Something that fills her and leaves her feeling warm and... loved._

 

_Davey White._

_Where is he tonight?_

_He's sleeping with her in a Tennessee town_

_And he's fine._

 

_Annie stares slack jawed at her. Jane ignores it. She feels like she's a million miles away from the cracked, yellow stained walls that encase her. Standing on a rock looking out at dark water glittering under moonlight._

 

 _Once my tears had all run out_ _  
_ _I learned how to live without_ _  
_ _Pieces left behind in tow_ _  
_ _I took to the hard road_ _  
_ _Strangers know the songs I write_ _  
_ _They come to hear me sing at night_ _  
_ _They don’t know I’ve paid the cost_ _  
_ _They don’t know what I lost._

 

_When she finally slits her eyes open Annie is sitting next to her on the floor. Her hands fidgeting in her lap._

 

_“Can you do that again?” Annie asks._

 

_“Yes,” Jane says eagerly, even if she isn't sure she can. “But first we have to get comfy in bed, Come on Annie.” It takes Jane two tries to get up, one hand propping her up, the other on her swelling stomach._

 

_Annie leads her to the apartment at the end of the hall and flings the door open. Jane feels her breath go out of her. She wasn't sure what she was expecting but this wasn't it._

 

_Hardly any furniture at all. A ratty chair, a TV on a milk crate, a mattress on the floor. That was to be expected. Most of the décor around this building is milk crates and duck tape. No, what steals her breath is all the books._

 

_Their packed onto a couple of shelves, Piled in corners of the room, stacked in boxes, piled on the windowsill. A fine layer of dust coats almost all of them, except the stack of Shakespeare next to the mattress. Jane stare at their well worn spines, they stare right back at her._

 

_“Finnick are you happy?”_

 

_He smiles at her in her memory._

 

_“What's a happy man need of Shakespeare?”_

 

_She shakes her head, clearing Finnick from her mind._

 

_“Let's get you in your pajamas.” She says to Annie in a soft voice._

 

_When they are both situated beneath a old comforter that smells like menthol and mold Annie starts to talk._

 

_Her voice starts off in her child like whisper. She tells Jane about England and the flat that her and Finnick are going to live in. She tells her that she's going to get a cat and learn to like tea and Finnick is going to get a good job and they'll move to the country, on the coast in a little cottage overlooking the sea._

 

_It sounds sweet and rich. Jane can see it so clearly its like chocolate on her tongue. Warm and velvet. And Annie, with her bruises and scrapes and eyes swollen from tears, looks so bright._

 

_Jane doesn't have the heart to tell Annie._

 

_She doesn't think any of them will escape this place._

 

_XX.XX_

 

 

_Finnick comes home._

 

_Marring bruises on his face. Shadows under his eyes. His shoes are untied and the laces hang down, whirring against the tile as his boots stomp against the stairs._

 

_Annie squeals and launches herself into his arms as he staggers back._

 

_“Annie my love, are you alright?” He asks, cradling her face between his palms, looking her over carefully, examining every inch of visible skin._

 

_“Okay,” She says with a crooked smile._

 

_“Are you okay?” Jane croaks from behind Annie._

 

_Finnick smiles at her._

 

_“Right as rain Old toad, those clickywristed old bats couldn't hurt me.” His smile is manic. Too big, too bright. Not at all right on his face._

 

_But then, like a sleight of hand trick she sees his eyes flash darkly. Then as quickly as it was there his face is righted and its too late to ask what had happened exactly because he is scooping up Annie as she laughs with absolute delight. The door slams behind them, Jane is left on the other side._

 

_XX.XX_

 

_Jane throws her apron on the counter. The only other person in the kitchen is Johanna, whose scrubbing dishes at the sink. Jane's stomach is getting larger. She doesn't walk so much as waddle now and it takes her a while just to cross the room and sink down into a chair._

 

_She's thinking about Finnick._

 

_How thin he's getting. His eyes like black pools. His hair is always a mess and he's back to sitting on the stoop for hours on end, but he doesn't read anymore, he watches._

 

_He watches the men in their crisp uniforms and march the sidewalks. They watch Finnick with eyes closed off by the early summer sun._

 

_They watch all of them._

 

_Jane keeps her head down, never looking them in the eyes._

 

_Finnick's very presence challenges the men. He stands tall when they pass by. His eyes never leave their faces. He even smiles at them sometimes, says something smart. Jane worries but he shrugs it off._

 

_“Clickywristed.” He says to her dour face. “I told you.”_

 

_Something wet spatters her face._

 

 

 

_Johanna stands right in front of her with sopping hands._

 

_“Hey brainless, you in there?” Johanna says with a grin._

 

_“Sorry, did you say something?”_

 

_“I asked you if you wanted to splurge on a pizza for dinner but clearly you weren't listening. So now its splash Jane with dirty dishwater time.” Johanna steps back and flings water in Jane's direction. Jane tries to be mad, she really does, but the night ends in laughing, soaked clothes and for a moment, she forgets she's lost._

 

_For the first time, maybe ever._

 

_She feels like she could belong here._

 

_She toddles for the door and flings it open, spewing indignities at Johanna who just chases after her with a wicked grin on her face, splashing her with a water bottle._

 

_Finnicks door flies open._

 

_“Oi, what's all this noise? You she-witches out here making a commotion while us respectable folk tries to sleep, some of us have work in the morning!” His voice is angry but his eyes are alight with mirth. Jane can't help splashing him with a water bottle she has in her hands. He huffs indignantly and slams the door in her face._

 

_Jane is breathless. She laughs as she falls against the wall. Feeling woozy, with a stomach sore from happiness._

 

_Finnick flings his door open and pelts them with flour._

 

_The hallway is a mess of flour and water. Jane can taste the flour on her lips. She wipes it from her face and looks down at her hands._

 

_Suddenly she feels dizzy. The darkness recedes for just a moment._

 

_“He was a baker.” She whispers and Johanna freezes next to her._

 

_“Jane?” Her voice is quizzical. “Are you okay?”_

 

_Jane looks at her._

 

_“He never took sugar in his tea.” She says it as a fact. Rain is wet, Night is dark, and he never took sugar in his tea._

 

_“Who Jane?” Johanna says, grabbing her shoulders forcefully._

 

_The darkness is returning._

 

_Her head is throbbing. She can feel her pulse throb in her temple._

 

_It hurts._

 

_“Stay,” She croaks. “Stay with-”_

 

_That's the last thing she remembers._

 

_XX.XX_

 

_Glass glittering in the moonlight._

 

_Headlights cutting through the air._

 

_“You're going to be late, Little Duck.”_

 

_“I'm fine, I told you I don't need a ride. I can walk.”_

 

_“I'm sorry, I don't feel comfortable with him driving you out in this weather.”_

 

_Quiet._

 

_“I'll walk then.”_

 

_“Quit being obstinate, its a downpour out there.”_

 

_“I'm fine!”_

 

_Silence._

 

_Dread._

 

_All the broken pieces._

 

_They will never be mended._

 

_Silence._

 

_So much silence._

_XX.XX_

 

_She wakes on the couch._

 

_“You fainted,” Johanna says matter of factly._

 

_“My head hurts,” Jane whines. Johanna gives her a glass of water._

 

_“You said something funny.”_

 

_“I did?”_

 

_“Yeah,” Johanna says. “You said he was a baker and he never took sugar in his tea. Do you know who he is?”_

 

_Jane thinks, so hard._

 

_She really tries to remember._

 

_The darkness is so bleak, so black and thick and smothering._

 

_She clutches her stomach as she says it. “I-I don't remember.” And she feels her face contorting with the effort not to cry._

 

_Johanna scoops her up into a hug._

 

_“Its okay, Jane.” She whispers soothingly as Jane finally breaks against her chest. “Its okay.” And Johanna's fingers tangle in her hair as she pets Jane like a child or a dog._

 

_“I just want to remember.” Jane sobs._

 

_“Just give it time.” Johanna coos._

 

_But then the baby kicks._

 

_Reminding her that time is something she doesn't have a lot of._

 

_XX.XX_

 

_She climbs into the passenger seat of Finnicks car. Clutching the file folder to her chest._

 

_“What have you got there, Old biscuit?” He asks._

 

_Her fingers are wrapped so tight around the folder they are bloodless and white._

 

_“A picture of my kid.” Her voice is barely even breath and her heart is hammering in her chest._

 

_“Well, let's see it.” He says, holding his hand out expectantly. Reluctantly she hands it over. He flips it open and looks for a long time. Silently appraising with raised eyebrows._

 

_“What do you think?” She asks with stilted breaths. She hasn't looked at it since the nurse handed her the picture._

 

_His eyebrows quirk as he looks up at her, studying her._

 

_“Its got your frown, that's for sure.” He says._

 

_“No, No it doesn't.” She snatches the folder away from him. “I don't even know how you can make heads or tails of this its so black and grainy.” She whispers sourly, wiping away the wrinkles her fingers had made on the paper._

 

_“There's the head.” He says pointing at a gray lump. “And there is the tail.” He says pointing at another gray blob. She huffs and glares at him._

 

_“So whats the verdict... boy or girl?” He flicks on the ignition and pulls out of the parking lot._

 

_“Um, its a surprise.” She says. “I'm going to have a party like those rich people in magazine's do.” Her voice has a haughty tone to it._

 

_“Is that such a good idea?” He asks._

 

_“Why wouldn't it be?” She growls._

 

_“You sure you won't forget?” He teases. She smacks him with the file folder and doesn't speak to him the rest of the drive._

 

 

_XX.XX_

 

_Johanna makes a cake and whatever the color is, that's what the babies gender is. Johanna has been ready to burst for hours, in on a secret that no one else knows and being discreet isn't exactly Johanna's forte._

 

_But at six sharp Johanna, Rue, Finnick and Annie all gather around the cake that isn't anything fancy, straight out of the box. Each of them has a cold glass of milk and wait patiently for Jane to cut into the cake._

 

_Red._

 

_“Shit, that was suppose to be pink.” Johanna mutters. “Congratulations, Jane, It's a girl.” She says with a flourish and drinks her milk._

 

_They all pat her on the back, offering congratulations and smiles, then shuffle off as she presses her hand to her cheek. She tries to decipher exactly what she's feeling._

 

_Then a broad smile crosses her face._

 

_A little girl._

 

_Healthy._

 

_Real._

 

_XX.XX_

 

 

 

 

_Sometimes Jane feels like she can't breathe._

 

_It is like all the air gets sucked from the room and no one knows but her. Leaving her to heave while all those people around her laugh and talk and walk and move and the whole time they are completely fine. She trembles beneath the weight of some undeniable force that keeps her feet firmly rooted to the spot where she just, is._

 

_Johanna calls it anxiety._

 

_Anxiety._

 

_It sounds like taffy against teeth. It tastes like offal and smells like sour milk. When the feeling finally ebbs, sometimes hours later she is exhausted from the leaden weight._

 

_Right now, standing in front of the apartment building she feels anxiety creep up her spine and root somewhere deep within her. A fog has blanketed the building in an eerie quiet. Even though the morning is already stifling and sticky, she feels a coldness prick at her skin. Every hair on her body is standing on end._

 

_She presses her hand against her stomach, hard._

 

_And waits._

 

_Birds twitter in the distance, she can hear their songs, the rustle of the leaves. She feels a warm breeze against her sweat stained legs. Cars drive on the road. People laugh across the street. There is a little girl down the road riding her bike back and forth on the sidewalk._

 

_Nothing is out of the ordinary._

 

_No reason for the fine hairs on the back of her neck to be standing on end._

 

_Sid is sitting on the stairs, his watery chocolate eyes watching her warily._

 

_“Hi, Sid.” She says cautiously and the dog dips his head as she approaches. His tongue licks her hand, his breath warm against her palm. “Good boy.” She whispers, scratching behind his ears._

 

_Then Finnick rounds the corner. His leather jacket always has been hopelessly scuffed but it sits at an odd angle on his shoulders. Blood is trickling from one nostril. He runs a hand through his hair and it stands on end._

 

_Deep shadows play on his face. Under his eyes, the hollows of his cheeks. He looks almost frightening. She takes a step away from him as he licks his chapped lips and glances up at the sun._

 

_He hasn't even noticed her yet. His eyes dart back and forth between the sky and the door._

 

_“Finnick?” She says but its almost like he can't hear her. He mumbles something and falls against the stairs. Sid whines, his tail wagging from between his legs._

 

_Finnick absentmindedly sets a hand on the dogs head and leaves it there._

 

_“Finnick?” She tries again._

 

_He looks up at her._

 

_She can see fallen civilizations in the deep blackness within him. Every horrible thing you can imagine lives inside of the pools of his eyes. He smiles crookedly, all white teeth gleaming._

 

_“Jane,” He whispers._

 

_“What were you doing behind the building?” She asks._

 

_He leans back as he lights a cigarette. His hand comes up to shield his eyes from the sun as he just... looks at her. She shifts uncomfortably, the straps of her sandals digging uncomfortably against her feet._

 

_For the first time in recent memory she is afraid of Finnick._

 

_No._

 

_She's afraid for Finnick._

 

_He wipes the blood from the corner of his nose and sniffs._

 

_“What are you doing in front of the building?” He says with a gruff laugh. His words all bleed together, slurred and sloppy._

 

_“Finnick are you high?” Her voice is sharp as antiseptic._

 

_The smile disappears from his face all at once. Its all the answer she needs._

 

_She shoves passed him and up the stairs. Sid follows after her._

 

_“Janey, Old trout, hold up-” He tries but the door cuts off whatever he was going to say with a slam._

 

_Jane watches through the door as Finnick lets out a breath and slumps against the concrete, fingers tangling in his hair. Then its like he has turned into someone else completely. He kicks out at the air and slams his fists against the stairs until they are raw and bleeding._

 

_And then he cries._

 

_Crumpling like paper._

 

_She runs as best she can up the stairs and slamming the door to the apartment behind her. She falls against it and struggles for breath, the smothering anxiety is back._

 

_Is this what life is?_

 

_Struggling for breath as you swim through darkness hoping for a ray of light?_

 

_She has a child._

 

_The thought hits her like a ton of bricks._

 

_A tiny life. It has eyelashes and fingers and toes. Someday soon it will be a living, breathing soul with hopes and dreams and failures as vivid and complex as anyone else._

 

_What kind of a world is she bringing it into?_

 

_A place of suffering._

 

_She wilts. Curling in on herself as she falls against the floor with a dull thud._

 

_She feels the fluttering inside._

 

_Alive._

 

_Real._

 

_XX.XX_

 

 

_She watches Finnick and Annie from afar._

 

_Someone has their window open and a song she thinks she knows is lilting through. Annie seems to know the song, she sings along brightly._

 

_Finnick has his shirt off and his skin is freckled on his shoulders. He's washing his car while Annie dances around him in shorts and a plain tank top. Her footsteps are light as air as she smiles with her blood red lips._

 

_Some one has pulled out one of those kiddie pools from Kmart for the neighborhood kids and is filling it from a garden hose._

 

_Jane can hear the kids laughing in the distance as she presses her chin against her knee. She's too big to fit into her pants anymore so she mostly wears sundresses from the thrift store, this one is off-white with little strawberries on it. It reminds her of something she can't put into words._

 

_She wonders if she wore something like it as a kid. She thinks she might have. She thinks she liked to twirl so the skirt would rustle around her knees._

 

_Annie screams and Jane's head jerks up._

 

 

_She's spraying Finnick with the hose._

 

_Then he grabs her around the middle and hefts her up. He's pretending to be upset but kisses her nose, his fingers graze her bare thigh. Annie's dark, wet hair spills over his shoulder as he kisses her and its breathless and achingly sweet._

 

_“Janey love?” Finnick is staring at her. He has lipstick smeared across his lips. It reminds her of the blood that oozed from his nose._

 

_“What?” She snaps, peevish. She still hasn't forgiven him and it's hot and uncomfortable and she's as big as a whale and her feet are too swollen to fit in her sandals forcing her into flip flops and she is sure to be rewarded with blisters. And she just wants this kid out of her already!_

 

_“Fancy a swim, old duck?” His eyes glint in the sun. He smiles playfully. Annie is still hanging from his arms._

 

_“I'm a planet.” She growls. “I'll sink.” She looks back down at the book she forgot she was holding. Baby names, a gift from a girl at work._

 

_“What are you reading?” Finnick tries again. He sets Annie down and swaggers over. A couple of teen girls are hanging out of a third story window. They whistle wolfishly at Finnick and he winks up at them. They disappear in a fit of excited whispers and giggles. Jane rolls her eyes._

 

_Show off._

 

_“Baby names.” She huffs, showing him the book. All she wants is to go back to ignoring him, but Annie is on one side of her now and escape is improbable._

 

_“Anything jumping out?” He asks._

 

_She shrugs. “I think I like Carly, ” She says flatly._

 

_“Don't you dare.” Finnick says, crinkling his nose at her. “I knew a Carly in London she was completely mental.”_

 

_“Do you have a better idea?” She snaps, thoroughly fed up. She stands and stomps up the stairs._

 

_“Give me some time.” He says playfully. “We'll come up with something.”_

 

_She turns back to look at him._

 

_His eyes are green and clear again._

 

_He's pleading silently with her._

 

_Forgive me._

 

_She isn't sure if there is anything to forgive or not. Is disappointing her a crime?_

 

_“Finnick,” She calls._

 

_“Janey love?”_

 

_“Tea on the porch tomorrow?” She says gently._

 

_He smiles weakly._

 

_“Right.” He nods._

 

 

_XX.XX_

 

_Johanna and Rue play cards sometimes._

 

_Jane mostly likes to watch, content to listen to them banter back and forth while she props her feet up on the extra chair in the kitchen. Mostly she reads baby books that she's dug out of bargain bins and thrift stores._

 

_The night is sweltering._

 

_It is almost August and the air is constantly muggy and thick. The apartment offers no relief, the air conditioner has been broken for months and the landlord has yet to come and fix it despite Johanna shrieking on the phone with him for the better part of an hour._

 

_Oh well. Jane is learning to do without._

 

_They all do without something._

 

_Its a quiet evening, despite the heat. Everyone moves as little as possible as a fan blows the hot air around the room. Something feels off. Jane can feel it in her bones. Maybe it is the heat, maybe it puts everyone on edge._

 

_“It's so hot.” Rue complains, slumping down in her chair and tossing her cards down on the table._

 

_Johanna calls the landlord something uncomplimentary and pours rue a glass of sweet tea from the fridge._

 

_They hear crying from the hallway._

 

_Annie._

 

_It's usually Annie._

 

_She sobs and wails and pounds her fist against the walls._

 

_Johanna rolls her eyes. “Crazy bat is going to put a hole through the wall one of these days.” She gripes. “Keep it down!” She hollers at the wall. Boots against linoleum, more screaming. It isn't words, just babbles._

 

_A cottage by the sea. A cat. Books and tea and the London drizzle._

 

_Annie and Finnick._

 

_Finnick and Annie._

 

_Everything goes quiet._

 

_Jane listens._

 

_She doesn't move toward the door._

 

_She's afraid it's Finnick._

 

_She is always afraid its Finnick these days._

 

_XX.XX_

 

_But it wasn't Finnick._

 

_They came for Annie._

 

_She finds Finnick slumped in the stairwell when she meets him for tea on the stoop. His jacket is off and up close she can see the sallowness of his skin, the bruises beneath his eyes. Up close he doesn't look handsome, he looks tired._

 

_“Annie,” He whispers._

 

_It takes Jane awhile but she manages to sit next to him._

 

_“What happened?” She asks in a carefully measured voice that echoes off the walls._

 

_“They took her.” His voice is a broken whisper._

 

_“Who? Those men?” She is frantic. Dread spreading from her stomach to her limbs in a rush._

 

_“No, The white coats.” He says. “Bleeding fascists.” He mutters under his breath._

 

_“Finnick? They took her to the hospital?” Its like talking to a child. She peppers him with questions and gets bread crumbs of information from him._

 

_Annie had a fit._

 

_Someone called an ambulance._

 

_They took her to the hospital._

 

_Finnick looks worse than he ever has before. She always thought of him always keeping Annie calm but Jane had never thought of what Annie does for Finnick. Who is he without her? Without the girl he cares for sometimes like a lover and sometimes like a child._

 

_“Finnick, have you always loved Annie?” Jane asks._

 

_“She crept up on me, you know?” He says with a fond, sad smile. “Then, one day it was like she had always been here.”_

 

_“What happened to her? Why is she-” She cuts her question off, not sure if its a rude thing to ask or not._

 

_He swallows and it sounds painful._

 

_“Why is she crazy?” He asks, a bitter edge to his voice._

 

_“Yeah? I guess?”_

 

_His eyes roll around the room and he's quiet for so long she thinks he won't answer. But just when she is about to give up he lets out a sigh._

 

_“You know her father put her through hell. Locked her in a cage like a dog. Thought she had something evil in her, he did, mental old bastard. Tried to drown it out of her once. I can't think of anyone more evil than him” His voice is steel. Jane watches as his jaw clenches and relaxes, over and over._

 

_Jane lets out a breath._

 

_“She survived it, but her brain sometimes plays tricks on her. He tortured her but they call her the crazy one?”  His words are a scoff. An affront to God. He looks at Jane, she can see the girl screaming in a cage, needles and nights that never seem to end, but she sees other things too. She sees dancing under dim lights and fingers sticky with cotton candy and flour on a floor._

 

_Maybe they all are who they are for a reason._

 

_They are all the same. Trying desperately to heal wounds the best way they know how. Annie is crazy, Johanna is tough. Rue, Rue is sad but also loves to laugh, and sing and dance. And Finnick? He's a junkie. Its harsh but true. He also loves Shakespeare and taking Annie to ride the tilt o whirl and he is also kind and sweet under his leather jacket._

 

_There is no difference between them. Junkie Finnick and the boy that reads her Shakespeare._

 

_Jane rests her head on Finnicks shoulder._

 

_Maybe its enough just being here, trying to survive, together._

 

 

_XX.XX_

 

_It's late but she feels compelled to check on Finnick._

 

_She knocks but when no one answers she barges in._

 

_The mattress is in the same spot it was in the night she was here with Annie._

 

_“Finn?” She calls._

 

_“I'm out here.”_

 

_She finds him on the fire escape, legs hanging off as he ashes his cigarette, the lights of the city cast odd shadows on his face._

 

_“Hey Janey, love.” He says, his voice stark and blank._

 

_“What are you doing out here?” She asks, hanging her head out the window. She doubts she'd be able to fit out the window now and if she did she knows she wouldn't be able to get back in._

 

_“Thinking.”_

 

_“About Annie?”_

 

_“mmmm” Is his only answer._

 

_She huffs._

 

_She's never noticed before how the night hides the rot on the buildings. In the distance she can see the skyline of the city glittering. It almost looks... pretty._

 

_“Emily.” Finnick says suddenly._

 

_“What?”_

 

_“That's a good name.” He says with a fond smile. His eyes are far away though, lost in thought._

 

_“Sure, maybe.” She says lamely._

 

_“It's pretty and strong.”_

 

_Jane leans against the windowsill, looking out at the city._

 

_“What about Jane?” She asks absently._

 

_He isn't looking at her when he says it._

 

_“Jane is a good name too.”_

 

_She reaches out and ruffles his hair. “Finnick is a good name.”_

 

_She hears him sniffle._

 

_“I can be a good man, I really feel it.” He says insistently. “I'm going home, you'll see. Annie and me.” His hands twist his shirt._

 

_“I can be a good man.”_

 

_The words will come to her late at night, months later as she lays on her couch staring up at the water stained ceiling. They will hide themselves in the hollow of mouth and stay there for hours. But they do that don't they, the words we don't say. They linger like ghosts. She will whisper “You already are.” but it will be too late._

 

_She doesn't say them when it matters._

 


	19. Jane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Goodnight stars.
> 
> Goodnight air.
> 
> Goodnight noises everywhere.”

_Jane shifts the bag of groceries in her hand and opens the front door, propping it open with her foot and slipping inside. The door slams behind her, startling her. In a distant apartment on the first floor she hears water running, music seeping through the walls of another. Children laughing in a hallway. Two women chatter in a doorway. She begins to climb the stairs slowly, her stomach more of an inconvenience than anything right now, she doubts she'll be able to fit in the stairwell soon if this kid grows anymore._

 

_There is a figure slumped at the top and she knows it Finnick._

 

_For a moment she can't breathe._

 

_He isn't moving. His lips are a funny blue color. Her heart stops._

 

_“Finn?”_

 

_His skin is pale, too pale and he has the sticky sheen of sweat. His trembling lips are chapped and raw. His eyes pop open at the sound of his name and his head turns slowly to appraise her as she glares up at him. His lips slowly turn up into a humorless smile, his eyes, deep set in his skull swivel in their sockets as his eyes slide shut again as if they are too heavy for him to keep open._

 

_“Hey, Old Trout.” He whispers, his voice scratchy and raw,_

 

_“What are you doing?” Her voice comes out harsh._

 

_“Dancing.” He says with a laugh. His lips stick to his teeth._

 

_She sighs._

 

_She should leave him here to stew in his foul body odor instead she sets her bag down gingerly and huffs up the stairs._

 

_“Come on, lets get you up.” She says._

 

_He really tries to help her out, not resisting as she loops her arm in his and tries to heft him up. He's heavy, bones made of lead. She gets him halfway up before he slumps back against the stairs and lets out a small noise at the back of his throat._

 

_“What are you doing?” The sharp voice that interjects is like a needle in her spine. Jane glances up to see Johanna staring down at them like a king on a throne, her nose turned up just slightly like the sight in front of her disgusts her._

 

_“I need to get him up.” Jane says, her eyes falling to the floor like she is ashamed._

 

_“Why?” Johanna steps down until she can lord over Finnick, sniffing in disgust at him._

 

_“He's sick.” Jane supplies, not a lie really but it feels like one in her mouth._

 

_“He's high,” Johanna snorts back an odd edge to her voice. “Let him get himself up.”_

 

_“We can't leave him here.” Jane shoots back at the girl._

 

_“Why not?” Johanna has eyes dark as midnight and for a moment Jane isn't sure if there is anything loving inside of her. Then she remembers of course there is, she's a girl that collects strays. They are stuck at a stalemate, staring each other down in the hall. Then Johanna lets out a huff and Jane allows herself the luxury of a smile. “I don't know why you care about him so much, Jane, He'll just hurt you and steal your wallet in the process.” Jane could defend Finnick, she should, but all the words have hardened to a lump in her throat._

 

_She wonders what Finnick ever did to Johanna to cause suck a visceral reaction in the woman?_

 

_Maybe it isn't Finnick at all. Maybe it was someone else._

 

_When he's slumped on his bed Johanna turns and runs from the room, leaving Jane to pull of his shoes and tuck him under the moldy comforter._

 

_“Finnick, do you need some water?” She asks but he's writhing against his pillow and muttering nonsense. “Finnick?” Her voice comes out harsher than she meant it to. This is the third time this week she's found him like this. Two days ago he was curled up in the bathtub like a cat. Yesterday he was outside by the dumpster. Its hard to watch. It hurts her eyes to watch him bounce back and forth between the living and oblivion like he does._

 

_She feels it scorching her like fire and she curls in on herself like paper might do under such a flame._

 

_“Finnick!” She feels the tears pricking painfully at the back of her eyes._

 

_His eyes open and flit to her face, but he can't see her, he can't see anything._

 

_“Take a bath.” She sneers at him and storms off, slamming the door behind her._

 

_All is quiet._

 

_She fetches her groceries and disappears behind her door and when he comes knocking, hours later, she doesn't answer._

 

_Johanna watches her with watery eyes from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. “Sometimes it's better this way.” Johanna doesn't sound smug or arrogant when she says it, just resigned._

 

_“Better for who?” Jane asks, pressing her hand against the cool wood table in front of her. She feels something hard seeping into her blood. Is this what it feels like? To become stone?_

 

_“He's going to die Jane.” Johanna says it so matter of factly. “It's just a matter of time.”_

 

_“You can't know that!” Jane suddenly snaps, slamming her fist against the table and glaring up at the woman slumped against the sink. Johanna, however isn't looking at Jane, she's staring at the darkness on the other side of her window._

 

_“He was dead the moment he decided to inject that shit into his veins.” Her voice is surprisingly soft, it wraps around Jane and constricts her throat like a scarf. So she can't speak and Johanna doesn't give her the opportunity either, she disappears out into the hall and doesn't come back until Jane is already tucked onto the couch for bed._

 

_XX.XX_

 

_Days go by._

 

_Annie doesn't come home._

 

_Finnick sits on the stairs_

 

_His eyes two black holes._

 

_XX.XX_

 

_Jane likes to walk home sometimes._

 

_She gets off work just as the sun is coming up and as she walks she daydreams about a life she can't remember. She twists different names around and around in her head until they lose meaning and sound odd in her head. People pass her by and there is never a glint of recognition in their eyes. She keeps her head down, watching her shoes as she walks._

 

_That's why she doesn't see him._

 

_She walks into a wall._

 

_No._

 

_A person._

 

_She stumbles back, cringing from the unwanted contact, muttering an apology. But the arms that steadied her, tighten around her upper arms, holding her in place. Fingernails digging into her skin._

 

_“Careful, Miss.” The man says._

 

_Her eyes shoot up to his face, his eyes dark as midnight and they squint in the early morning light._

 

_He is one of them. The men that hurt Annie. The wolves._

 

_She startles back and his arms drop to his sides. Something at his hip glints in the already muggy morning light._

 

_A gun._

 

_“S-Sorry.” She whispers, stepping to the side to let him by. Her arms wrap around her stomach and she is standing in the street now, eyes glued to the sidewalk. The man doesn't move, just stares at her, eyes boring a hole in her. She feels herself cracking under the weight of his eyes._

 

_Don't look up._

 

_She chants it in her head over and over. She doesn't know why or how but she knows if she looks up, she is a goner._

 

_She feels her heart climbing up her throat. The sharp intake of her breath._

 

_Its like time stalls and stutters._

 

_“Oi, Mate don't you have anything better to do than harass young pregnant ladies on the street?” Finnick drawls from somewhere behind her. Jane feels a sigh escaping her chest, feeling both relieved and an odd sense of dread._

 

_“Don't you have anything better to do than defend them Odair?”_

 

_Finnick flashes a smile, all white teeth._

 

_He looks better than he did on the stairwell, but his skin still has the pale pallor and his eyes are glassy. Jane reaches out and tugs on the sleeve of his jacket, trying to get his attention. Finnick ignores her, leaning forward until his face is just inches away from the mans._

 

_“Piss off,” Finnick growls, shaking Jane off his side and taking another step forward._

 

_“Careful, Finn.” The man smiles crookedly but it's sinister, empty. “Wouldn't want anything to happen to that pretty little nut job that follows you around. What's her name? Abby?”_

 

_She sees Finnick flex his fingers, caked with what looks like oil. Before this mess he must have been working on his car._

 

_Her hand closes around his wrist and she tries to drag him backward, all the good it does, he doesn't budge. But his eyes meet hers and for the briefest instant she sees it. The rage. The helplessness. It seems whatever anger Finnick was holding onto goes out of him in a rush. He smiles warmly at Jane and touches her cheek._

 

_“Sorry I scared you, Old Shoe.” He whispers._

 

_He turns back to the man in the black uniform._

 

_“So sorry, Officer, we'll be on our way now.” Finnick takes her by the hand and leads her away like she is a small child. She tries to turn her head and look back at the officer._

 

_“Don't look back, Jane.” Finnick barks. Startled she swivels her head forward._

 

_He stops her at the stoop where a jug of sweet tea sits, getting warm in the sun._

 

_“Don't ever look back.” He's looking right at her when he says it._

 

_XX.XX_

 

 

 

_Annie finally comes home._

 

_She is thinner, her hair clotted down her back but other than that she looks remarkably good. She's holding a pill bottle in her fist as she climbs out of a cab. Jane struggles to stand as Finnick bounds down the stairs, narrowly missing her in his rush to get to Annie. The British flag stares at Jane from the back of his jacket, a crudely drawn patch of a band she's never heard of. Finnick scoops Annie up and examines her from head to toe. His fingers tangled in her hair._

 

_“Did they hurt you love?”_

 

_She furrows her brow, studying Finnick. Her arms come up and rest on his chest, as if she can't believe he's real._

 

_“Finnick?”_

 

_“It's me, love.”_

 

_Annie looks up at Finnick and Jane feels a pulse of pain in her core. She'll never know what it feels like, to be looked at like you're the only thing worth looking at. She shies away, slipping up the stairs. But just as she is pulling the door open she hears it, so quiet and lovely. Finnick whisper-singing to Annie, a soft sandpaper growl._

 

_“Don't worry about a thing._

_Cause every little thing gonna be alright.”_

 

_She almost turns but then she remembers._

 

_Don't look back._

 

_XX.XX_

 

 

 

_Jane can't say how or why but she can feel it coming._

 

_XX.XX_

 

_One Sunday morning she steps out into the sunlight to see Finnick reading on the stoop. He looks better with Annie back, his skin doesn't look so sallow, his eyes a little less tortured. Annie sits at his feet, her head resting on his knee as he reads to her, she pets her stuffed rabbit absentmindedly, looking up at Finnick with awe in her big, green eyes._

 

_“You're face is gonna get stuck that way.” Finnick gripes without looking up. Jane smiles, that was the first thing he ever said to her._

 

_“Your face already is.” She snaps back and he looks up at her, surprised, she finds her eyebrow raises up in challenge._

 

_“I wish I knew you before, you must have been such a hardhearted siren.”_

 

_Her heart stutters and then dies._

 

_She toes the cement with her sandal._

 

_“Day off?” He asks, ignoring her slight frown, Jane nods._

 

_“I'm going to the library.” She says._

 

_“We'll walk you.”_

 

_“I don't need a babysitter.” Jane gripes but secretly is a little grateful. She hasn't felt good about walking around the neighborhood since the altercation with the cop. She has often felt that man's eyes on her as she walked to work. Though he hasn't tried anything. Yet._

 

 

_They all walk in silence, Finnick hand in hand with Annie. Annie must be having a rough day, she's tucked into Finnicks side, her face half buried in his jacket as they walk. Every noise makes her jump. Finnick pets her hair and coos at her softly._

 

_“Annie, why don't you tell me what you're going to do when you get to London?” Jane asks, this brightens the girl up considerably and she chatters to Jane about brightly painted buildings and tea and rainclouds. Finnick smiles at Annie warmly._

 

_When they get to the library Finnick drags Annie over to the children s section. Jane was looking for a new baby book but finds herself sitting at one of the ancient computers._

 

_She types in Hackney, London._

 

_She stares at the pictures for a long time and she can actually see it, in her head, she can really see it._

 

_Annie and Finnick walking the streets, him in his leather jacket and Annie, in a blue sweater._

 

_When she has checked out her book she finds Finnick and Annie., curled up on the floor. Finnick has draped his Jacket over Annie and is reading softly to her. Her dark hair is covering her face and her breath is even and deep. She must have fallen asleep awhile ago. She doesn't dare interrupt though, she listens as he reads goodnight moon, his fingers tangling in Annie's hair._ _“Goodnight stars. Goodnight air. Goodnight noises everywhere.” He whispers in Annie's ear, even though she can't hear him._

 

 

 

_“Finnick?” Jane's voice cracks._

 

_“Yes, Pet?”_

 

_She tries to swallow the lump in her throat but she feels the heat rising to her cheeks. She doesn't know why but this ache to cry is back. She wants to blame it on the pregnancy but she isn't sure if its that or the dread that is balled inside of her stomach. The fear of what is to come._

 

_“Oh, old trout,” She feels her throat constricting. A strangled sob escaping her lips._

 

_“Who died?” He whispers at her loudly. “It wasn't me was it?”_

 

_This makes her laugh, just a little and when she looks up he's smiling too._

 

_“Must be those pesky hormones. I'll get Annie up and we'll go get a cuppa how does that sound?”_

 

_She nods and swallows her tears._

 

_“There's a girl, old duck. See everything is fine.”_

 

_XX.XX_

 

 

 

 

 

_Its a beautiful morning._

 

_Jane dresses for work and slips out of the door, a mug of tea in her hand and waddles down the steps. Sid and Finnick are sitting on the stoop. Jane pats the dog on the head and passes them by with a tight smile. She's late, she doesn't have time to chat._

 

_“Off to work?” Finnick asks, barely looking up from his book._

 

_Jane nods. Hiking her bag up on her shoulder. “Yep, I'm late, I'll talk to you later yeah?”_

 

_“ Sure thing, pet. Cheers for now.”_

 

_She gives a backwards wave._

 

_But doesn't look back._

 

 

_XX.XX_

 

_It always happens when you stop expecting it._

 

 

_XX.XX_

 

_Annie finds him in the bathroom._

 

_Slumped against the tub._

 

_Needle still sticking out of his arm._

 

_XX.XX_

 

_Jane sings to the sobbing Annie._

 

_“Don't worry about a thing._

_Cause every little thing, gonna be alright.”_

 

_XX.XX_

 

_When Annie finally drifts off to sleep. Jane slips over to Finnicks apartment. She grabs the book on the top of the stack by the bed and slips outside, down the steps. She wants to cry but the tears won't come. So her eyes just burn as she curls her arms around her stomach._

 

_Its like this that she waits for him._

 

_She knows he isn't coming._

 

_Dead means gone._

 

_It's forever._

 

_Still, she waits to hear his roguish accent behind her._

 

_If she shuts her eyes and strains her ears she can almost hear him calling her the worst names._

 

_Sid comes up and whines at her until she sets her hand on his head, his tongue flicks out and licks the knee of her pants. The door opens and shuts and she sees the dog wag his tail, just slightly, almost hopefully._

 

_“He isn't coming back.” She says softly. The dog whines at the sound of her voice. A soft, aching noise._

 

_This is what finally breaks her._

 

_She feels the tears clawing at her throat and when they finally spill over she crumples in on herself, all of those rough edges folding like paper. She buries her face into the dogs fur and sobs, and she doesn't know how long they stay like that but it must be a long time because her fingers grow stiff and her legs go numb but the dog doesn't move, just lets her cry and for that she is so, so grateful._

 

_She stands up and clutches the book to her chest._

 

_The dog whimpers at her._

 

_“Cheers for now.” She whispers._

 

_XX.XX_

 

_Overdose._

 

_He just took too much and stopped breathing._

 

_She wonders if he knew, just as his eyes slid shut._

 

_That he was going to die._

 

_She wonders a lot of things._

 

_But there aren't any answers._

 

_XX.XX_

 

 

 

_Annie sobs in her sleep._

 

_And when she does Jane whispers her a story._

 

_“Goodnight stars._

_Goodnight air._

_Goodnight noises everywhere.”_

 


	20. Peeta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They all loved Katniss Everdeen. They all kept her secrets and they hadn't even realized it.

“ _You're crazy.” Peeta says. Looking over the edge of the cliff and wincing at the twenty foot drop._

 

_“I'm not crazy, I'm brave.” Katniss says with finality, turning to look over her shoulder at him. Her dark eyes glittering with something wholly unknown to him, even years later he wouldn't be able to name it. She smiles at it is a lovely little shadow of happiness, one side of her lips quirking up slightly higher than the other as the wind catches wisps of her hair and sends them flying in all directions around her face._

 

_“Get down from there.” He admonishes, grabbing her hand and trying to pull her gently backward. She doesn't budge, her face upturned toward the gray dappled sky._

 

_“Are you scared I'm gonna fall?” She drawls, her eyebrows raised as she waits for his answer._

 

_“I am absolutely terrified that you're gonna fall.” He says sharply. “Please get down from there.”_

 

_“You're no fun.”_

 

_“I know,” He snorts back at her. “I'm the worst.”_

 

_“You're an old lady.”_

 

_But she hops down from the rock she was perched on, watching the sea birds dip and sail. It was his idea to make a day trip to the coast, it was hers to go walking along the cliffs on a dreary, damp day. He wasn't complaining however. He had her all to himself today, and he didn't intend on wasting it._

 

_They walk along the edge of the sandy cliffs, watching the gray rolling waves below them and chatting about nothing, hand in hand, her body pressed against his. Tiny, lithe and warm. He watches the goosebumps prickle along the edges of her skin and he wraps his arm around her neck and runs his hand up and down her arm._

 

_“Are you cold?” He asks and she shakes her head but pulls herself closer, so he leaves his arm there and they stay like that for a long time, just walking in comfortable silence._

 

_Then the words rush out of her. Like a dam releasing and it is the first hint that something is off. Of course, he doesn't realize it then. It won't come to him until those first few precious days as they scoured the woods surrounding the lake. The words would root somewhere deep inside of him and stay there, silently eating their way through him like cancer._

 

_“Do you ever thinking about leaving Panem county?”_

 

_He laughs it off at first, raising his eyebrows. But she looks so serious it gives him pause._

 

_“I don't know, maybe.” He says with a shrug. “But Mom would have a fit and who would help Dad in the bakery?”_

 

_“What about your brothers Peeta?”_

 

_“They have their own lives, they're in college.” Peeta says but he can feel the insecurities rooting themselves somewhere in his gut. She says what he had only dare think._

 

_“What about your life?” Her voice is hard. “What are you going to do when we graduate? Why don't you get to go to college?”_

 

_“I-I-I just-” His voice dies because he isn't sure what he is trying to say. It was an unspoken truth that he would inherit the bakery from his father. His brothers didn't really have a knack for the business. And while Peeta enjoyed the work he hadn't realized that he resented his brothers for having the option of leaving._

 

_He glances up at Katniss. They've stopped walking now, she's looking at him with wide eyes._

 

_“What about you?” He asks. “You ever think about leaving?”_

 

_She shrugs her shoulders and turns away from him, his arm sliding from her shoulder as she looks out at the tossing gray waves._

 

_Her answer would haunt him. Turn over and over in his head in fits. He can still hear it as clear as day in his head._

 

_“I think if I didn't have Prim, I'd just walk off and never come back.” Her voice is like water. She turns to him and his hands catch her face between them. She worries her lip between her teeth and glances up at him through her lashes._

 

_“Would you come with me?” Her voice is hopeful as her own fingers reach up to his face. He smiles at the way she leans in closer to him._

 

_“Always.” He says. And then he kisses her, its all tongue and teeth and she tastes warm and rich like dark chocolate and for a moment it feels like the world is crumbling around them._

 

_And in a few short months it will._

 

 

 

 

It grew dark hours ago but Peeta doesn't move to flick the lights on. He just sits on the bed with a bottle of kessler between his knees. Madge's angry stare locked in his brain. The slamming of the door behind her still reverberating through his head.

 

The liquor burns down his throat and makes his nose run. His lungs sting with every breath he takes. Distantly he can hear the sounds of the city, horns honking, sirens blaring, people laughing but up here in this room is quiet.

 

Everything has been so quiet since she left.

 

_Its almost dark._

 

_The sky is a dusky purple over the ocean._

 

_Somewhere far over the ocean lightening stabs the sky. Katniss stares out at the ocean, the light shining in her eyes._

 

_Peeta reaches out and tilts her delicate chin toward him, smiling against her cheek as she squeals and squirms away from him. His arm worms its way around her waist and she lets him pull her close to him and she twists around so her back is pressed against his chest. His chin tucks against her neck as thunder rattles the purple, pregnant sky._

 

_He wants to freeze this moment._

 

_Live in it always._

 

_“We should get inside.” He says._

 

_She doesn't answer him, just keeps her eyes locked on the horizon in the distance._

 

_“Katniss,” Her name is lump in his throat, a broken whisper, a frantic plea._

 

_She could be a thousand things at anytime._

 

_But right now, in his arms, she looks invincible._

 

_He must have said that last part out loud because she turns, her eyes flitting up to his face and searching his eyes._

 

_What does she see?_

 

_“I am.” She says._

 

Something breaks inside of him.

 

All of this pent up rage escapes from inside of him and he rushes forward, the wall catching the brunt of his anger as his fist connects with the white stucco. White dots swim in his vision as his hand sings. He clutches it as blood leaks from his knuckles.

 

All the anger and frustration goes out of him in a rush and he falls limp against the carpet.

 

How many nights have been spent just like this one? Memories flashing across his vision waiting to be dissected, pulled apart for clues to what she could have been thinking as she climbed into the cab of that truck and drove away.

 

Madge was right.

 

He's despicable. He knows this.

 

He had wanted to keep it to himself though, even for just a moment. The look on her face as she stared up at the sky with snowflakes catching in her eyelashes.

 

And then there is the shame of it.

 

The wanting to keep that final moment to himself. The kick of rejection he felt right in his ego. The hollowness at the knowing, even then, that he wasn't good enough. The humiliation, the hurt, the hurt, the hurt.

 

 

Suddenly the room is so small, too small to house all of his guilt and doubt and he is pretty sure he is bleeding all over the expensive carpet, so he grabs up his jacket and keys and slips out the door in one fluid motion. In an instant he is standing in the elevator, watching the red drip down the curve of his wrist.

 

“Better take care of that cut.” There's a woman behind him, Peeta whirls around. She stands there in her black stockings that are ripped at the knees. Her skirt crawls up her legs and an unlit cigarette hangs out of her mouth. She runs a hand over her short, dark hair and winks in his direction. “Looks like it hurts.” The elevator door dings and slides open. The woman, who couldn't be more than a hundred pounds, shoves passed him, shoulder knocking him forward.”

 

“Yeah lady,” He says, trying to avoid getting blood on her lace shirt. “All the time.”

 

She winks as the doors almost close on him.

 

XX.XX

 

There isn't anywhere to go.

 

The city is too big and he is so small, standing in his leather jacket on the curb.

 

He doesn't know where he could go to find what he is looking for. Hell, what is he even looking for anymore?

 

It's not like Madge wants to speak to him.

 

So he walks like a ghost to the brightly lit amusement park. The only place he can thinks she might have been.

 

Practically abandoned on this frigid day, he pays the entrance fee and takes his time wandering around the arcade. He buys himself some funnel cake and watches a man make a balloon poodle for a little girl with dark pigtails.

 

What would his child look like?

 

Would she be made of amber and onyx like Katniss?

 

Does she even exist?

 

He finds the first empty bench and plops himself on the wet wood, resigning himself to watching the waves pound against the shore.

 

He tries to make himself so still.

 

Like he did when he was small and his mother was in one of her moods. He'd hide up in his room and just listen as she ranted and raved down stairs. And the whole time is heart beat frantically in his chest.

 

Just like it does now.

 

 

 

_By the time they reach his car it is a downpour._

 

_Katniss leads, her hand firmly attached to his as she pulls him along the side of the truck. Her shirt clings to her wetly, so does her braid and she laughs as she tries to wring the water from her hair. Peeta shakes his head like a dog and she barks at him to grow up, but the little half smile she gives makes him think she isn't really mad at him. And when he presses her up against the side of his car and kisses her she smells like rain water and tea leaves and vanilla. Something he has never given any thought to but is utterly intoxicating._

 

_He tries to release her. He steps away to give her some room to breathe but she latches her fingers around the front of his shirt and drags him forward, back to her. And when her lips touch his he feels the pop and sizzle of electricity between them, its a tender pain that leaves his heart stuttering. It feels like the middle of him is gaping open for all the world to inspect._

 

_And for one fleeting moment some part of him wonders._

 

_Is love suppose to hurt?_

 

 

He isn't sure how long he has been sitting here, still as a stone, staring out at the endless ocean, but he feels the shift in the air around him before she sits. He feels her energy before the dip of her weight on the old, rickety bench becomes apparent.

 

“I thought you might be here.” Madge says.

 

Peeta finds all of his words are stuck inside so he just shrugs.

 

“Your hand is bleeding.” She states flatly. “What happened?”

 

He ignores the twist in his gut at the memory of Katniss, her fingers tangled with his.

 

“Got into a fight with a wall and lost.” Peeta says humorlessly.

 

“I bet the other guy looks worse.” He chances a look at her. Her eyes are puffy, a faint trail of mascara runs down her face, it looks like she may have tried to scrub it off. He can still see it, at the edge of her raw skin.

 

“I guess.” He whispers flatly.

 

“I'm sorry I slapped you.” Madge says.

 

“I deserved it.” Peeta says.

 

“Yeah, you did.”

 

“You still mad?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Good.” Peeta says, his voice cracking.

 

“I also know how she could be,” Madge offers her hand and he takes it gently, there hands lock together and hold strong. It would take more than a missing girl to tear them apart right now. “How you guys were together.”

 

“I'm sorry Madge.”

 

“It doesn't matter.”

 

Those words. His heart stutters and then slowly flat lines.

 

“I know.”

 

“Do you remember the day we looked out in the eastern woods for her?”

 

He does remember that day, it was damp and cold, much like this one. They spent hours combing the fields of waist high waving grass and soggy dead leaves for any sign of Katniss. Anything that might be hers. Jessa Everdeen had spent the afternoon listing everything that Katniss had with her in her bag, or things she might have.

 

Peeta thought it was a little silly. Would anyone out walking in the woods think anything was amiss if they found a messenger bag with a rolling stones pin or a journal with a dandelion drawn with a careful hand on the cover. No, they wouldn't be any cause for alarm and no one would think to report it. But its busy work for Jessa, just like this is busy work for them. It keeps them from realizing, there is nothing they can do, not really.

 

“Yeah, why?”

 

“You told me there was nothing we could do. I should of known then... that you knew.”

 

“I don't know what happened to her Madge.”

 

“But you knew who she was with.”

 

“No, I don't.” His voice is resolute. The one thing he is certain of, he doesn't know who was driving that damn truck.

 

“I do.” Her voice snaps like the string on a piano. Words curling into each other as she looks at him, eyes wide and guilty.

 

Peeta is buried beneath those words. His entire body shifts in an instant, his hands locking on her shoulders. His cut reopens, blood smears on her gray sweater.

 

No. It couldn't be Gale.

 

Peeta defended him.

 

All this time.

 

But the quiver of Madge's lip tells him everything.

 

They all loved Katniss Everdeen. They all kept her secrets and they hadn't even realized it.

 

“What do I do if he did something to her?” Her voice shatters into a sob and she pitches forward, landing square against his chest.

 

Gale.

 

He had the gray truck.

 

It was him.

 

“I never seen a gray truck, Madge. He has a bike.”

 

“He works at a mechanics Peeta, I saw a gray truck that weekend. It was- it was- I didn't know! You never said anything!” She bursts out in tears again and there isn't any talking to her.

 

Madge was betrayed in the worst way. Peeta isn't sure how long he holds her but when she finally sniffles and wipes her eyes they have both been soaked and his cut is crusted over and the waves are the same as they were before.

 

Peeta can feel it in his blood.

 

Everything is different.

 

XX.XX

 

 

They end up at a diner at the edge of the highway. It is connected to a truck stop where semi's can park so the truckers can catch a few z's or you know, catcall the women that wander between the big steel trucks, looking like zombies or scarecrows. Peeta can't look at them too long.

 

What if she's one of them?

 

He clears his throat like he might say something but instead just runs his finger along the edge of the fake wood table.

 

“I want a whole plate of bacon.” Madge says, chewing on her lip as she examines the menu.

 

“Good luck with that heart attack.” Peeta says, not taking his eyes off the table.

 

They don't say much after that, and they can't seem to look each other for too long. But other than that, everything is fine.

 

Everything is fine.

 

“What can I get for you guys?” A woman with a thick Boston accent drawls. Peeta doesn't even bother to look up at her as Madge ticks off their order.

 

When the waitress is gone, Madge finally sighs in a world weary way that tells him that she is gearing up for a long winded speech.

 

“We should probably start with some fliers, we can post them up around the amusement park.” Peeta must make a face. “What's wrong with that Peeta?” Madge is sharp as a knife and the truth is, he doesn't know whats wrong with it. Its a good idea. Why does it feel like he is at the top of a roller coaster about to tip off the edge of the world?

 

“Nothing, sorry.” He says.

 

Madge keeps going but he isn't listening.

 

He is watching the rain drizzle its way down the window. The women wandering the parking lot. The highway that leads out and away. What if she passed this place right by?

 

What if a trucker gave her a ride out of town?

 

She could be anywhere.

 

 

 

XX.XX

 

 

But they do it anyway. They go out and plaster the street with paper. They tape Katniss's picture to light poles and in grocery store windows. The rain soaks them as soon as they are put up so they go out every day.

 

Have you seen this girl?

 

Its everywhere.

 

Peeta dreams about the face looking up at him. She morphs into intoxicating colors or sometimes she screams his name, her voice so filled with pain he shoots up out of bed in a cold sweat. Madge shoves her pillow over her head and mumbles a curse word but leaves him alone with his nightmares.

 

Katniss has invaded every aspect of his life, like a conquering army.

 

And he feels no closer to her than he was at the start of this mess.

 

 

XX.XX

 

 

He waits until Madge falls asleep and then he slips out onto the balcony with his phone. He pulls Haymitch's card out of his wallet and stares at it for a long time before he has the courage to dial the number.

 

“You better have a good reason for calling me at two in the damn morning.” Haymitch's voice is gruff with sleep.

 

This is it.

 

He falls on his sword. He only pauses for a moment before he speaks.

 

“I need to tell you something-”

 

Haymitch is silent as Peeta recounts everything. Everything that lead up to that fateful night. From secret smiles, funerals, dancing in a empty restaurant to that snowy evening his world collapsed in a heap around him. And finally about what Madge recounted to him, the truck, Gale, all of it. The truth is bitter on his tongue but he already feels lighter, less weighted down.

 

When Peeta finally goes silent he finds that Haymitch is quiet too. And when that silence is too much to bear Haymitch clears his throat, making Peeta feel slightly queasy.

 

“I should have you arrested.” Haymitch says evenly. “Obstruction of justice, you understand that right?”

 

“Yes sir.” Peeta says breathlessly.

 

“Good.” Haymitch snaps. “Go back to bed, we'll talk tomorrow.”

 

“Sir?”

 

“Its two in the morning, Mr. Mellark.”

 

“Yeah, okay.”

 

The phone dies in Peeta's hand as he stares out at the city lights that glitter around him. Shivering in the wind.

 

_She is laying in a hospital bed, surrounded by tubes and wires. Her face swollen and bruised, her hands twisted in the thin blanket they've laid over her. Her eyes are fixed out the window, not looking at him. She looks like a child in the oversized paper gown they put on her. The monitors beep, she doesn't move._

 

_“She's dead.” Katniss says, her voice a scary monotone. He hadn't realized that she even knew he was standing in the room. Her eyes never seek him out. Just stay fixed on the darkness beyond her window._

 

_“I know.” He says back, his eyes falling to the floor. He doesn't want to see it. The pain, the brokenness. The sick shine of misery on her damp skin._

 

_“She's dead.” It is all she can say. Like she's trying desperately to believe it._

 

_“Peeta!” When he finally looks up at her she's looking right through him. All of the light has gone from her eyes. She looks as dead as her sister. “She's dead!” She sobs. “She's- She's-” She hiccups and finally reaches for him, like a toddler reaching for her mother. Where is her mother?_

 

_He climbs into bed right next to her. He lets her sob against him, carefully avoiding the wires. And they sit like that for a long time. Her sobbing. Him rubbing soft circles in her back, because its all he can do. No flowery words or soft platitudes can fix this._

 

_He thinks of the old rhyme._

 

_All the kings horses._

_All the kings men._

 

There are so many more memories.

 

Simple little snippets that move through his head like a home movie, grainy and pockmarked with time.

 

_Katniss laughing against his neck._

 

_Her legs wrapped around his waist as he stands in waist deep lake water, shivering as she kisses him breathless. Her arms wrapped tight around his shoulders._

 

His breath sticks hard in his chest. He can't breathe. He can't-

 

_Katniss runs. Her eyes set forward as her running shoes slap against the synthetic red running track. Her braid swings as she shoots forward, impossibly fast. Her face fixed on a point in the distance. Her eyes two dark holes._

 

_Peeta sits in the stands and wonders idly._

 

_What is she running from?_

 

He reaches for the ghosts around him.

 

The girl that laughs and sobs and evades him at every turn. Every time his hand gets close to touching her she turns to smoke or something like dandelion fronds and wisps away with the wind. Who is this girl? The one that mocks him with her coy smile and darkened eyes.

 

Is this who she has been this whole time?

 

_“Let me go.”_

 

“I can't.”

 

“You look invincible.”

 

_“I am.”_

 

It hits him like hard, fast punch to the gut. His knees buckle from the force but he keeps himself upright, so he is looking at the ghost girl as it runs through his head, the realization washing over him like ice water.

 

“You aren't her.”

 

This ghost he has built out of spare parts.

 

He had taken the parts of her he wanted and built someone else out of them. Someone who would never get up and walk out of town with out a word.

 

“No, I'm really not.” The ghost looks right at him when she says it. Chin tilted upward in defiance. He wants to reach out and touch her cheek. Even now.

 

“Was she ever here?”

 

He knows he's crazy. If Madge walked out here he'd be standing here talking to the wind. But he can't stop her.

 

She smiles.

 

“She's closer than you think.”

 

His phone buzzes in his hand. He glances down at the screen.

 

“You should take that.” She says and when he looks back up, she's gone.

 

 

XX.XX

 

The person on the other end is faceless.

 

A woman who says she can help him.

 

Peeta doesn't hesitate, he's still looking at the empty air in front of him, hand almost outstretched.

 

“How on earth can you help me?”

 

There is a breath of static. The hum of something in the background.

 

“I know where she is.”

 

“Katniss?”

 

“I'm sorry, she has died.” She says in a thick accent. Russian maybe? 

 

Peeta doesn't believe her. It still hits him like a punch in the gut. He looks around. Children laughing, eating cotton candy as they drove in packs down the boardwalk in the rain. He wants to run until he remembers there is nowhere to go. A group of teenaged girls scream on the rollar coaster in the distance.

 

“How did she die then?” His voice has a bitter edge to it. "When did she die?"

 

Static.

 

Silence.

 

He waits.

 

Laughter in the background. The sound throbs in his head.

 

“Hello?”

 

“She is buried in the north woods, I can take you there.”

 

His knees want to give out, but they don't. He holds steady.

 

“When?”

 

“For three hundred dollars, I will show you.” Static, laughter, static. “I saw her photo on the flier. I remember her, she was murdered in July 4th of 2015."

 

His heart sinks as he hangs up. She wasn't missing in July of 2015, she was running toward the meadow with Prim, looking up at the fireworks. Her fingers locked with his.

 

They've had a few of these. People who will help for a price. People who can see the future or see things other people can't, (Or so they say.) Even people who are so bored with there own lives they feel the need to stir things up. They come up with fantastical stories. They saw her in a drug den or at a brothel or they saw their neighbor murder her in the night.

 

It just mucks everything up and sends them all spinning in circles that go nowhere. Nothing good lies down those paths.

 

The phone buzzes to life in his hand. He looks down. Its the same number.

 

He shoves the slick little device back into his pocket.

 

He stands there a few moments longer, looking out at the ocean. Someone bumps into him. Sea lions bark. He stays there still as a stone, trying to remember what it was like before this became his life. When Katniss Everdeen looked down at a bruised boy from the tree in her yard.

 

Before the death and loss and miles separated them.

 

Before they became unreachable to each other.

 

 

XX.XX

 

 

The hotel room is quiet when he returns. Its dark and he doesn't bother with the lights, using the skyline for light as he pours himself a stiff drink and sinking into a chair. He flicks on the television for noise.

 

He can smell the faint scent of Madge's clove cigarette coming from the open balcony door.

 

“You ever coming in?” He calls to her.

 

“Yeah, maybe.” She yells back. “Maybe I'll just stand out here and freeze to death.”

 

“Quit being such a drama queen.” He snaps back.

 

“I could say the same about you.” She snarls.

 

Great. They both are in fine form today.

 

He drinks his drink, its burning a hole in his empty stomach. His fingernails click against the fake wood table.

 

An infomercial is playing. One of those psychics that were really popular in the ninties. A woman that promises things like If you believe in yourself you can do anything. The answers are inside of you. Things you already know are true, she just voices them and charges you two dollars per minute to hear it.

 

Peeta is just about to click off the television. He holds out the remote, his finger on the power button and for just one moment his hand hovers there as he listens.

 

Its one of those things he can't explain, even years later. He doesn't know why he doesn't shut the television off just yet. Its like he is waiting for something he doesn't know he needs.

 

And then he hears it.

 

There was something hidden inside of him. Something that he hadn't realized had died and all his blood comes rushing back to it the instant the voice speaks. Is it his heart? Has it been made of ash this whole time?

 

It is a voice he hasn't heard in over a year. His eyes slide shut in relief.

 

He should call out to Madge but he can't move, he can't breathe. His blood pounds and pulses and sings within him.

 

“ _Please help me.”_ She says. “ _I'm so lost.”_

 

A choking sound escapes him as the remote slides from his hand and clatters to the floor. At the sound something awakens in him and he stumbles forward, falling to his knees in front of the television. His fingers touch the glass as if its her cheekbone.

 

“Katniss?” He calls as if she can hear him. A strangled sob. “Katniss?” Whatever came alive within him dies again at her next words.

 

“ _I'm so scared.”_

 

_XX.XX_

 

 

 

_Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers is on the radio._

 

_Katniss fell asleep a while ago. Her head slumped against his shoulder, braid still damp from the rain. And the sky in front of them is darkening quickly. He should hurry and get her home before the storm catches up with them and he presses his foot against the pedal at the thought, but then something funny happens, she makes the cutest noise from the back of her throat as she tucks her nose against him and breathes in deeply._

 

_He can't stop the slow smile spreading on his face. And he can't stop the way his foot eases up on the gas. And he can't stop the way his heart beats wildly in his chest._

 

_And as Tom sings on about an American girl, Peeta isn't listening, Peeta is looking out at the road in front of him as the realization hits him square in the chest._

 

_He'd go anywhere with Katniss._

 

_All she has to do is ask._

 


	21. Gale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Its all around him.
> 
>  
> 
> They are all around him.
> 
>  
> 
> Girls and ghosts of girls.

_Gale blinks._

  
  


_Once. Twice. It does little to alleviate the double vision as he leans back in his seat, his bones practically moaning as he stretches out the best he can in his mothers worn out Toyota Corolla. It was a long day changing tires and heaving engines and by the time he clocked, his back was throbbing and his fingers are swollen. All he wants to do is take a hot shower and disappear into oblivion on his bed._

  
  


_He turns the ignition and reaches for his seat belt in the same breath. The Ipod his family shares blares something loud with no rhythm and he mutters his brothers name like a cuss word._

  
  


_Rory, even at sixteen, fails to be able to turn down the volume before he exits the car. He flicks the volume down to something bearable and scrolls through the music until he finds something fast and pounding. The Clash._

  
  


_Rain hammers against the windshield and even with his wipers working double time he has to squint to see the road in front of him. The mountain darkness swallows all, its a good thing Gale knows the twists and curves of this highway like the back of his own hand, otherwise he might be in trouble._

  
  


_The ipod slides down the center console and lands by his oil soaked work boot. Gale curses and reaches down to grab it up before it can get crushed beneath his heel._

  
  


_His whole world slows as his headlights cut across the scene. He straightens and both hands land on the steering wheel as he punches the brake, tires screeching wetly. His stomach swoops violently as the car veers sideways and comes to a screeching halt just feet away from the upside down truck sitting stoic in the middle of the road. Headlights slicing through the darkness._

  
  


_Twisted metal, steaming in the rain. Glass glitters in his headlights. For a long agonizing moment all he can do is stare out at the wreckage, chest heaving as he regains the movement in his hands, arms and finally legs._

  
  


_He swings his door open and steps out into the rain. He is already drenched as he crosses the street, glass crunching under his boots. Then his heart climbs his throat and suicides out of his mouth._

  
  


_Her braid is hanging. Blood drips from her forehead and onto the roof of the cab. She is so still. Too still._

  
  


_Some sort of noise rents through the night and he knows objectively that it belongs to him but he can't really feel it leaving him. Then her eyes start to move beneath her lids and she takes in a gasping breath._

  
  


“ _Katniss,”_

  
  


_She whimpers._

  
  


“ _Katniss, don't move okay. I'm going to call an ambulance.”_

  
  


“ _Pr-” Her voice is like cotton. “Prim-”_

  
  


_His stomach bottoms out._

  
  


_He didn't see._

  
  


_He didn't see her crumpled there like paper in the seam between the windshield and the door, her neck at a inhuman angle, sapphire eyes staring but not seeing, her lips waxy and ashen._

  
  


“ _Prim.” Katniss says again and her voice is a little stronger. She struggles against her seatbelt weakly._

  
  


“ _Katniss, don't move okay?”_

  
  


_Her eyes flash open, blood congealed at her temple._

  
  


“ _Gale?”_

  
  


“ _Yeah?”_

  
  


“ _Save Prim.” Her eyes slide shut._

  
  


_Gale looks at the little girl laying among the shards of glass and wrenched metal and he knows that there is no saving her._

  
  


_He looks at Katniss, hanging limply._

  
  


“ _Okay,” He says gently._

  
  


_Blood has dried black at the corner of her nose._

  
  


_He takes three shaky steps back and vomits on the pavement. Then he calls it in._

  
  


_He holds her hand and tries to avoid looking at the dead girl._

  
  


_Paramedics are there in minutes, sirens scream and lights bounce off the glass and reflect at odd angles against the twisted metal which was once Katniss's faded truck._

  
  


_They lead him away from Katniss, his hand ripped away from hers as they begin the process of assessing the damage to her spine, her head and neck._

  
  


_No one needs to get close to know, Primrose Everdeen is dead._

  
  


_The police arrive, they congregate around the truck like flies. Gale just sits and watches with an unlit cigarette hanging limply from his fingers as he watches them lower Katniss down onto a gurney. It is like she comes back from the dead. The second her spine hits the plastic mattress she is screaming for Prim._

  
  


_His feet are heavy, leaden things. It takes all of his strength to walk toward her. A flare flashes on the ground. Sparks in the dead of the night._

  
  


“ _Prim!” She wails, her back bowing off of the gurney._

  
  


_He is almost there._

  
  


_Peeta Mellark beats him to it._

  
  


“ _Katniss?” His voice is a hollow whisper and it stops Gale cold in his tracks. Peeta locks his hands around her face and holds her there. She stills completely, with Peeta Mellarks eyes on her. Gale can see the fat tears clinging to her ungodly long eyelashes._

  
  


“ _Peeta,” Her voice is a whisper, like water under ice. “Peeta, Prim- Prim-” She dissolves against Peeta as he coos at her, useless as ever._

  
  


_The paramedics are extracting Prim now and Peeta meets Gale's eyes over Katniss. They zip the body into a bag and then the men toss Prim like she's nothing up into an ambulance._

  
  


“ _Alright,” A tall paramedic barrels toward them, not paying any attention to the pandemonium around them at all. “Lets get her up into the ambulance.”_

  
  


“ _You don't mean to take her in that ambulance?” Gale can be big when he needs to be. Normally he is quiet but his voice can be slicing and though he is wiry he stands at 6'5 when his spine is straight._

  
  


_Rain drips from the womans nose._

  
  


“ _Do you see another one?” The woman snaps, clearly annoyed at wasting time._

  
  


“ _Her sister is in there!” Gale ducks his head down to glare at the woman._

  
  


_Peeta watches cautiously from where Katniss clutches onto him. He rubs soft circles against her back._

  
  


“ _Your point is?” The woman snarls._

  
  


“ _Her dead sister.” Gale is careful to keep his voice quiet. He can see Peeta pale out of the corner of his eye._

  
  


“ _She could have internal bleeding Sir, forgive me if I don't give a fuck.”_

  
  


_Katniss watches with blank eyes as the paramedic jabs a needle in the crook of her arm and soon her sobs slow and her eyes droop. Peeta climbs right into the back of the ambulance, still clutching her hand so hard his knuckles have gone white. Gale can't help but feel a twinge of jealousy in his chest as he watches them load Katniss right up there with her cold, dead sister. It should be him comforting her. Not Peeta. Him. A few moments and Peeta slips back out and they slam the doors shut behind him. The siren blares and the two boys are left in the mountain quiet._

  
  


_Rain pounds against the pavement._

  
  


_Peeta comes to stand shoulder to shoulder with him._

  
  


“ _Do you need a ride to the hospital?” Peeta asks him. Rain has dampened down his curls and drips off his nose._

  
  


_So much water._

  
  


_Gale gasps for breath._

  
  


_Drowning._

  
  


“ _No,” He says. Without any other words passed between them Gale stays out in the rain and collects all of her things that have spilled along the roadway. Rain soaked papers and school books. Something stops him._

_Prim's old converse. Unlaced and laying discarded in the middle of the road._

  
  


_They used to belong to Rory._

  
  


_The sight of it stops Gale Hawthorne's heart altogether._

  
  


_In the years after his father died Gale Hawthorne avoided the garage. It was the place his father spent Sunday afternoons tinkering on his truck, rain or shine and for the longest time just to step outside felt like a splinter in his side. The smell of oil soaked cement and gasoline brought on a slew of memories so painful he could scarcely bare to breathe._

  
  


_It is like this with Katniss now, too._

  
  


_Where the ghost of his father resides in the garage, Katniss lives at his kitchen table._

  
  


_The one he grips with his fingertips now as he remembers the way her laugh curled around him. The sweating bottle of beer pressed against her lips._

  
  


“ _Gale,” The ghost girl laughs. “Stop teasing him- Gale!”_

  
  


“ _What?” The ghost boy says back, grabbing his younger brother by the collar of his shirt and rubbing the top of his head with his fist. “Builds character, isn't that right Ror?”_

  
  


_Rory grumbles under his breath and slinks over to the corner of the room where Prim is doing her homework. He sits at her feet. She looks at him with a fond smile and for a moment, Gale just watches the two of them in stunned silence. He looks back at Katniss and she winks._

  
  


_When did his brother become smitten with the youngest Everdeen?_

  
  


  
  


  
  


Then, all at once, Gale remembers where he is.

  
  


Sitting at the kitchen table, Completely alone.

  
  


He stands and sets his plate of forgotten food on the counter under a towel for Vick or Posy. He finishes his coffee and rinses out his cup but she always had the gift to creep up on him and he swears he feels her breath on the back of his neck, so suddenly he drops his mug into the sink, watching helplessly as it shatters. He collects the shards of glass like they are little bits of his life that he could simply gather up and throw out.

  
  


“Gale Hawthorne, what have I told you about messing around in my kitchen?” His mothers sharp voice flutters in from her bedroom. He steps back to let her in. She is barely five foot one and Gale towers over her now. It is hard to imagine that he came out of her. She looks so small and stooped with swollen knuckles and skin that has faded like old leather.

  
  


“Sorry, Ma.” He says and kisses the top of her head.

  
  


He gets out of her way as she sets to work on a cup of tea.

  
  


Rory files in with Posy on his shoulders. He is only seventeen but he is set to tower over Gale if he keeps growing like he has been. Gale has already had to buy him two pairs of shoes this summer. He yanks Posy down from her throne on his shoulder and flips her upside down so she is dangling by one foot with her hair hanging just above the carpet. She shrieks so loud birds outside take flight.

  
  


“Rory Hawthorne you put your sister down this instant!” Hazelle hollers from across the room and Rory smiles cheekily before setting Posy down gently on the living room floor.

  
  


“How did the job hunt go little brother?” Gale asks, eying his brother from across the room.

  
  


“Good, I have an interview at the pizza place down the street.” When Rory smiles he looks just like his father. So much so it hurt Gale to look at him directly. He claps his little brother on the shoulder.

  
  


“Good boy.”

  
  


Rory beams at him.

  
  


Gale scoops Posy up and kisses her sticky cheek. “You gonna go get your breakfast from Ma?” He asks the little girl. She wraps her chubby arms around his neck. “I hear we got toaster waffles.”

  
  


“Toaster waffles!” She shrieks in his ear.

  
  


He winces and sets her down, she goes bounding off, Gale long forgotten in the promise of a sugary breakfast.

  
  


Gale passes Vick in the hall, yelling at him to tie is currently untied boots.

  
  


Then slips down the hall and out of the door like a shadow, curling into his jacket and pulling his keys free from his pocket.

  
  


She materializes from nowhere like a fairy or a ghost or maybe a mixture of both.

  
  


Silver blonde hair pulled back in a slick ponytail.

  
  


She looks so perfect, so clean. He looks down at his hands, stained with oil and grease. He feels his teeth sink into his bottom lip.

  
  


“I thought you were in Capitol City.”

  
  


Her placid face remains empty but her lip curls back.

  
  


“Peeta still there?” He runs his hands through his dark hair.

  
  


“Madge?”

  
  


He tries not to think of how it felt to kiss her. The taste of her against his lips, underneath the salt of her sweat is something sweet and tart, like tangerines. He fails of course, and thinks of nothing else.

  
  


Why is she looking at him like that?

  
  


“Gale Hawthorne,” Her voice is brittle as chalk. “What have you done?”

  
  


  
  


  
  


_Gale lays out his bright red beach towel in the sand._

  
  


_He can hear Peeta and Madge talking together somewhere nearby. Leevy dove into the water as soon as they got here and is already halfway across the lake. Katniss lingers next to him in her oversized t-shirt and shorts._

  
  


“ _You know, Prim and Rory are getting pretty close.” She whispers, like someone is going to overhear._

  
  


“ _So it seems, when did that happen?” He says, examining the frayed edges of the towel, “Seems like just yesterday he was asking me to fix his bike chain and catching bugs in the backyard, all of a sudden he is chasing around your little sister.”_

  
  


“ _Probably started when someone and I am not say who, suggested Prim tutor him in algebra?” Katniss pops a chip in her mouth and winks at him._

  
  


_She is so pretty it's painful._

  
  


_He wonders what she would do if he reached out and touched that tender skin along her collarbone._

  
  


“ _Well,” He clears his throat and forces his eyes to look down at the bag of chips Katniss is dragging around with her. “You know those Everdeen women just got it all, beauty and brains. Poor boy didn't stand a chance.” He nods in her direction. He has known her since they were twelve, he knows her like the back of his hand and he can almost feel the blush that starts at the root of her hair and floods her cheeks._

  
  


_Katniss sits at the very edge of the towel and motions for him to join her._

  
  


_He does. Because he is helpless against Katniss Everdeen. If she asks for the moon it is his job to find away to get it for her._

  
  


_Does that count as love?_

  
  


“ _Who do you think we'd be?” She asks, her voice sudden. “If we didn't have to take care of them?” She juts her chin out to the kids playing at the waters edge. Vick and Posy splash in the shallows while Rory and Prim and Leevy's little sister sit off to the side, too cool to be caught sitting with their older siblings._

  
  


“ _I don't know, Catnip.” He says with a shrug of his shoulders. Really what did it matter who they would be? You only get one life and this was the piss poor hand they all got dealt. “Does it matter?”_

  
  


_She is quiet a long time._

  
  


“ _No, No I guess not.” She says and her voice sounds strained._

  
  


_He opens his mouth to ask her something but Madge slams into the back of Katniss, laughing breathlessly._

  
  


“ _Katniss, come swim with me.” Madge pleads, dragging Katniss up by her arm and pushing her toward the green water, dappled with light._

  
  


_Katniss turns and looks back at him but it is different than any other look she has given him. She looks disappointed, and sad, like she greedily opened a present and discovered it wasn't what she expected, or wanted._

  
  


“ _You look weird without your leather.” Madge calls from over her shoulder. Tipping her sunglasses down._

  
  


“ _Fuck off, Princess.” He snorts. Madge flips him off._

  
  


_He finds himself smiling though he hadn't meant to._

  
  


  
  


  
  


“I don't understand.” Gale says.

  
  


He reaches for Madge but she slinks back, her chin tilted up, her mouth twisted in disgust.

  
  


He was never good enough for her.

  
  


They finally get down to the root of it. He can see it in her eyes, he can see it all in her eyes.

  
  


The way his hands felt against her back, rough and work worn. The way her hair was like silk against his cheek. Her lips ghost down his neck and the colors from the clubs she like to frequent, pulse beneath his eyelids.

  
  


Madge Undersee is a storm.

  
  


And suddenly he realized it was never Katniss he wanted at all. It was her. It was always her. He has spent all this time sitting in the darkness with a ghost of a girl that could never love him the way he needed. Not even those aching dreams that have plagued him since she disappeared.

  
  


Heaven help him. It's always been Madge Undersee.

  
  


He let go of the living in favor of a ghost.

  
  


She looks at him like he is a snake in the grass. He steps closer and she backs away, they're stuck in a dance and he doesn't know the steps.

  
  


“You did it didn't you?” She snarls in his face. “You hurt her.”

  
  


“Madge, I don't understand. What the fuck are you talking about?”

  
  


He sees the word forming in her mouth. He sees it pass over her lips and disappear between them, sailing away on the frigid wind. Snowflakes are piling in her hair, melting against her dark green sweater. She looks lost. She looks small. A lamb in need of protection.

  
  


“Katniss.”

  
  


Its a feral hiss.

  
  


“What did you do to her?” He shifts his weight back on the heel of his foot and it is all it takes she launches herself forward, her hand coming up and slapping him squarely across face. Her face contorts, then crumples.

  
  


“What-” It's a breath.

  
  


“What did you do?”

  
  


He catches her before she can fall to her knees.

  
  


“Madge breathe.” Its a gentle command.

  
  


“Why?” And when she looks up through her tear soaked eyelashes something inside of him wilts.

  
  


“You really think I would do anything to hurt her? You really think so little of me?” His voice is a snarl.

  
  


Her lips twist into a sob.

  
  


“The truck,” Tears streak down her face.“I don't know what to think anymore.” She licks the tears off her lips.

  
  


Her voice is plaintive, forlorn. He'd gather her up in his arms if she would let him, he has a feeling she'd kill him if he touched her and he can't say he would blame her.

  
  


“Look at me.” He commands. For a long time she doesn't, she just stares, clutching his leather jacket with lacquered fingernails. Then she does and he reaches out so, so lightly and brushes away the tear that clings to her impossibly long eyelashes.

  
  


“I just-”

  
  


“You know me.” He whispers.

  
  


Her head hits his shoulder. Her nails dig into his jacket and twist and pull.

  
  


“I would never do anything to hurt her. I'd never do anything to hurt you.”

  
  


“But you did, didn't you?” She says and there is a lifeless quality to her voice, like something inside of her died.

  
  


“Madge-”

  
  


“Answer me!”

  
  


He locks his jaw and refuses to say a thing.

  
  


He remains still and quiet and after a few empty moments her face twists into a sneer.“You're sick Gale Hawthorne.”

  
  


There is no arguing with her.

  
  


  
  


  
  


_Its been six weeks since Katniss disappeared and Gale sits with his head shoved between his knees. Everything spins as his head throbs painfully._

  
  


“ _You look like cold crap.”_

  
  


“ _Gee thanks.”_

  
  


_His eyes flit upward and he sees her standing there a cup of coffee in each hand. She looks smart in her business attire of muted gray and black, but her pumps are a pale pink and for some reason this makes him smile._

  
  


“ _What?”_

  
  


“ _You going to a funeral?” He asks wiping the sweat from his forehead. Really would it kill any of these rent-a-cops to turn on a fan in this place?_

  
  


“ _Well, I want to look nice don't I?”_

  
  


“ _They're questioning us because they think we killed our friend.”_

  
  


“ _It's one of many avenues they're investigating.” Madge says, repeating Darius flatly._

  
  


“ _Yeah, well, you look ridiculous.” He snaps._

  
  


_She takes a long sip from her paper cup. She likes her coffee bitter and black. This makes him smile too. As a matter of fact, a lot of things about Madge Undersee make him smile._

  
  


“ _Yeah and you don't?” She eyes his t-shirt._

  
  


“ _What's wrong with the sex pistols?”_

  
  


“ _I don't have time to get into that.” She growls._

  
  


“ _Never Mind The Bollocks is one of the greatest albums ever made.”_

  
  


“ _It's noisy mish-mash.” She sighs._

  
  


“ _Take that back!” He snaps._

  
  


“ _Sid Vicious is an awful singer.”_

  
  


“ _He was the bassist.”_

  
  


“ _Who cares?”_

  
  


“ _Wh-Who cares-” She shrugs. He leans forward in his chair intent on telling her exactly why she should care when she smooths down her hair and looks straight at him._

  
  


“ _He probably killed his girlfriend, who cares about him.” Her blue eyes are locked on his. She leans forward and offers him a smile, its quick and laced with sadness but its sudden and lovely all the same._

  
  


_He realizes that even as he sits in the office waiting to be questioned about her disappearance he hasn't thought of Katniss Everdeen once since Madge Undersee showed up. This hits him like a bat to the chest, knocking all the air out of his chest._

  
  


“ _Madge.” It's Darius, holding a manilla envelope. He nods tersely at Gale and holds the door open for Madge as she slinks through the door._

  
  


_Just as the door is shutting she turns and gives him a watery smile._

  
  


_Then Gale is alone again._

  
  


  
  


  
  


“I'm telling them everything Gale.” Madge fishes for a lighter in her purse and shakily lights a clove. He remembers how they tasted on her lips, sweet with spice. She exhales and a cloud of smoke wraps around her.

  
  


Its all around him.

  
  


They are all around him.

  
  


Girls and ghosts of girls.

  
  


“I didn't, Madge, I couldn't-”

  
  


“I didn't put it together until Peeta said he saw her get in that truck.” He has never heard her like this, hard and cold. That inherited twinge to her speech. This sweet southern belle. “You had that old truck in the lot. You drove me to the studio that weekend.”

  
  


He nods. “I did you that favor.” His voice is soft and subdued.

  
  


“He saw you-”

  
  


“Madge-”

  
  


“What did you do to her?”

  
  


“Madge-”

  
  


“What-”

  
  


“MADGE.”

  
  


She stops, instinctively inching away from him. He laughs and the noise is bitter.

  
  


“I would never hurt her, I would never hurt you. You know that don't you?”

  
  


She is still.

  
  


He is reminded of a doe he saw as a child watching him from across the yard with large, watery eyes, poised to run. This is how Madge looks now in her sweater that is too large for her tiny frame and snowflakes catching on her eyelashes, in her hair, melting against the paper skin of her collarbone.

  
  


“You believe me, right?”

  
  


And then she turns away and walks off.

  
  


He calls after her.

  
  


She doesn't turn around. Until she gets to her car door.

  
  


“You better pray to God that Peeta finds her there in Capitol City, because so help me Gale Hawthorne if he doesn't I will kill you.”

  
  


The words burrow under his skin.

  
  


“Make it quick then.”

  
  


He locks his eyes on one of her tires and he stays there until her car squeals off.

  
  


Then he moves.

  
  


He always has had a knack for moving silently. He can slip down alleyways and through thin passageways like a shadow and today is no different. He pads down the hall on silent feet to the room that he and his brothers share.

  
  


  
  


  
  


_Katniss is asleep._

  
  


_She is surrounded by wires, tubes taped to her skin._

  
  


_Her hair is a rats nest on her pillow and her breath is shallow and sour. Gale grips her hand, running his rough fingers over her knuckles._

  
  


“ _How is she?”_

  
  


“ _Her sister is dead, Madge, how the fuck do you think she is?”_

  
  


“ _You don't have to be like that.”_

  
  


_He hasn't slept in hours and the world is empty and muted like he has taken too much cough syrup._

  
  


“ _How should I be Madge?”_

  
  


_She doesn't say anything. He turns to look at her and when his eyes land on her he wishes he didn't. Her nose is tinged pink and her eyes are red rimmed._

  
  


“ _Look at her face.” Madge says, her voice shattering._

  
  


_He does. He really does._

  
  


_Katniss is black and blue, her eye swollen shut. A gash across her forehead is wrapped in neat white bandages. She'll live. That's what the nurse had told Gale Hawthorne. She'll live._

  
  


_Looking at her now he knows for a fact she won't._

  
  


_Because when she wakes up he has the task of telling her that her sister is dead._

  
  


“ _Keep your voice down.” He whispers. “Let her sleep.”_

  
  


_Just then there is a clatter in the hallway and Rory comes flying in the room._

  
  


“ _It's true?” Rory looks like he did when he was eight and he had fallen off his bike in the street. He looks like he just skidded across pavement and landed in the rocks. Tears clinging to his lashes, chest heaving._

  
  


_Gale shatters._

  
  


_He had been so worried about Katniss that he hadn't thought of his little brother. Who had told him? How did he know?_

  
  


“ _The scanner.” Says someone softly. He turns to see Peeta Mellark in the doorway, looking as miserable as the rest of them. “It went out over the police scanner. That's how I knew.”_

  
  


“ _Nurse says only two at a time.” Peeta clears his throat. “So, I guess, I'll wait in the waiting room.”_

  
  


“ _I'll go too.” Madge says quietly, following him out the door and down the hall._

  
  


_Rory swims in Gale's old riding jacket._

  
  


_Jesus, he's just a boy._

  
  


“ _I'm so sorry, Ror.”_

  
  


_Rory folds into him. Sobbing against his big brothers chest. And it tears Gale's chest that there is nothing he can do for his little brother, nothing at all._

  
  


_For all the bike chains._

  
  


_The scraped knees._

  
  


_There are just some things that big brothers cannot fix._

  
  


  
  


  
  


Rory is standing with his back to Gale, shoving papers into his messy backpack.

  
  


Gale flexes his fingers at his side. Then like a starters gun has gone off he is on Rory, pushing him against the wall, his arm shoved against his adams apple. Somewhere in the bowels of the house he can hear Posy giggle, the bright, happy noises of a cartoon.

  
  


Rory doesn't breathe. He just looks at Gale like Gale should have known.

  
  


Gale should have known. He hadn't known about the truck. Madge was right there was a gray truck his boss had bought. He had loaned it to Gale to do some driving for the company the weekend Katniss went missing.

  
  


He feels so stupid.

  
  


“Rory?” It comes out as a broken whisper. “What did you do?”

  
  


His brother doesn't say anything. Just smiles sadly.

  
  


  
  


  
  


_Gale can't look at her when he says it._

  
  


“ _Katniss I am so sorry-”_

  
  


_His voice shatters on the floor._

  
  


_When he does risk a glance she is looking out the window._

  
  


“ _Gale.” Her voice is sharp and hard._

  
  


“ _Yeah?” His voice is thick with tears._

  
  


“ _Just say it.”_

  
  


“ _Prim is dead.”_

  
  


_A beat of silence._

  
  


_Then she throws up on the floor._

 


	22. Jane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She is going to die here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geez you guys are amazing!!!  
> I don't think I say it often enough but I love all of you!!  
> Thank you for every kudos, every review, every suscribe.  
> All of you are just incredible!
> 
> That said, buckle your seatbelts kids.  
> It's about to hit the fan!

_They bury Finnick on the hottest day of the year._

 

_In the end its just Jane and Annie that show up to watch his casket get lowered into the dark, rich earth. His father couldn't afford to bring him home or even a ticket out to the states to watch his son be buried._

 

_Jane pulls that the hem of her dress as Annie clings to her stuffed rabbit, her lips pressed into the fur._

 

_“Did you want to say anything Annie?” Jane asks when the attendant asks them._

 

_Annie looks at her with eyes wide._

 

_“What do I say?” Her voice is small, childlike._

 

_“I don't know.” Jane can feel her lips tremble but she doesn't cry._

 

_Annie turns toward the pine box and starts a slow march toward the gash in the ground that will soon cradle what is left of Finnick Odair. The wind shifts and Annie's hair blows back from her face. She kneels down in the dirt and reaches out to place her rabbit gently on the lid of the coffin._

 

_The man waiting for them to leave nods once at Annie and she doesn't say anything, just turns back to Jane and the two women hold hands as they make there way home._

 

_The entire block is too quiet._

 

_Jane waits but Finnick never rounds the corner._

 

_His story is over._

 

_She clutches her stomach and forces herself to know._

 

_Hers is just beginning._

 

 

 

XX.XX

 

_Jane watches the clock tick on the mantle, with each click of the second hand it feels like the walls shudder and close around her a little more until she can't breathe, until she is panting. Finally, she forces the window open, desperate for escape. Then the soft sound of distant laughter echoes through the house and she remembers, there is no escape from this place. Finnick proved that. Once this life got its teeth in you it pulls and twists until you have no choice but to relent._

 

_She runs her hands over her protruding stomach, skin strained tight and sighs. Children play with a hose across the street, dogs bark, a woman sings in a foreign language, both haunting and lovely._

 

_“What are you doing?” It's Rue, standing in the doorway. Her shoes are bright pink, Jane likes them._

 

_“Nothing, I guess.” Jane says._

 

_Rue raises her eyebrows but doesn't say anything else. She stalks across the room and grabs a can of off brand cola from the fridge. She leans against the counter and does her best to tuck her riotous curls behind her ear._

 

_“So, is it weird?” Rue asks, biting her lip._

 

_“What?” Jane asks with an unsure smile._

 

_“Having a person move inside of you?”_

 

_“Oh,” Jane laughs a little. “I guess, but you get use to it.”_

 

_Rue plays with the hem of her shorts, trying to pull the fabric down. “I think you'll be a really good mother.” She says finally._

 

_“You think?” Jane asks. Its been on her mind. She is the girl without a name or a past or a future, she is rooted here, in the present, waiting, waiting? For what? For who? How is she suppose to care for a child? A child with a name, a past and a future. How is she suppose to know what it wants? What it needs?_

 

_She is suddenly so scared she can't breathe._

 

_“Whoa,” Rue says. “It's okay, Johanna and I will help you. You'll be okay.” Jane nods but the fear stays rooted in her stomach. She had someone who loved her. She did. She knows in her heart that is it true. But what if they all left her for a reason?_

 

_The boy swims in her memory._

 

_His indigo eyes watching her with light, with laughter._

 

_She strains her mind, stretching through the darkness to try to hold onto him._

 

 

_Don't leave me. She pleads._

 

_The blackness snaps into place and he is gone again._

 

_But for just one second he was here._

 

_Rue comes up and puts her hand on Jane's shoulder._

 

_“It'll be okay.” She says with a smile._

 

_Jane grabs onto her suddenly, wrapping her wiry arms around the little girl. Rue lets a soft, surprised noise escape from the back of her throat and then she is petting Jane like she is a scared kitten._

 

_“Rue, What's going to happen to me?” She says, tears clinging to the back of her eyes._

 

_“I don't know.” Rue says._

 

_Jane knows that is the best answer she is going to get._

 

_~~..~~_

 

_Sid whines at her._

 

_“What do you want?” The dog paws at her knee and she relents, giving him her french fry._

 

_Annie stares out at nothing._

 

_She does that so often now and Jane can't console her because Jane isn't Finnick, the one person who could bring her back from that gauzy place she resides._

 

_“Annie?” Jane whispers. Annie doesn't move to acknowledge Jane, just sniffles and rubs her finger against her pink tinged nose, her eyelids drooping._

 

_Jane picks up the book and starts to read. All the good it does._

 

_Annie can't hear her._

 

_XX.XX_

 

_“Alright, get up.” Jane drags Annie up from her pile of blankets in the living room. “We're going out.”_

 

_“You're about to pop.” Johanna says from the kitchen. “You sure you should be going anywhere?”_

 

_“We'll be fine.” Jane huffs, already a little out of breath. “I think Annie needs some air.”_

 

_So Jane drags Annie out to corner and they catch the bus. Annie walking limply behind Jane. They sit in the seat and listen to the laughter of the teenagers in the back and the soft chatter of the elderly woman near the front and neither woman speaks to each other._

 

_Jane smells the popcorn from down the block. It mingles with the salt of the sea and the roasting hot dogs. In the distance people scream happily and the machines whirl softly and the ocean crashes against the coastline._

 

_She feels him everywhere in this happy place._

 

_They end up planting themselves on the beach with an extra large cup of soda between them and a pretzel to share. Jane rips off pieces of the soft bread and practically force feeds Annie._

 

_They listen to the ocean and the birds and the children laughing down the beach. Annie's hand fits into Jane's perfectly._

 

_“Have you thought of a name?” Her voice is subdued and it shocks Jane so much she doesn't speak for a moment. She sounds so... awake._

 

_“Finnick came up with a good one.” Jane winces at the mention of Finnicks name worried that Annie will react poorly but the girl just gives her the smallest half smile._

 

_“He really wanted to meet the baby.” Annie says. She presses her hand on Jane's stomach and the baby flutters inside of her._

 

_“Her name is Emily.” Jane says with a soft smile._

 

_Annie turns back to the ocean and buries her toes in the sand. They don't speak anymore, they just watch the sky burn pink and orange and blue and finally turn a velvet black._

 

_XX.XX_

 

_She dreams of him._

 

_The boy she hasn't really been able to forget._

 

_He holds her hand in the darkness and she squeezes gratefully._

 

“ _Do you ever think of me?” She asks._

 

“ _Always.” He says back._

 

_XX.XX_

 

 

_She stands at the edge of the boardwalk and looks out at the ocean. Her hair wisps away from her face and it feels familiar, like she has stood here before with someone else. A ghost cradles her to his back and makes her feel safe. She can almost feel his arms around her, steady and strong._

 

_She strains harder and she can almost taste his name._

 

_Her tongue hits her teeth._

 

_“You look invincible.” His voice is like sandpaper against skin. She can feel the ghosts of his fingers brushing her arms._

 

_She presses her fingers against the soft flesh of her lips and tries._

 

_She tries so hard to remember._

 

_“I am.” She whispers._

 

_She looks up suddenly, just in time to see the silent flash of lightning over the sea._

 

_And she knows._

 

_It's a lie._

 

_She is going to die here._

 

 

_XX.XX_

 

_The lights wink in the night as she sits on the roof. Jane lays back on an old lawn chair someone has left up here and stares up at the sky, the stars drown out by something brighter and stronger._

 

_She remembers it suddenly._

 

_His arms wrapped around her waist, feet moving in rhythm with the music. It swells around them and he lifts her up off her feet and gently spins them, setting her back down and pulling her closer. She doesn't say anything, she just leans against him, borrowing some of that strength._

 

_She looks up at him slyly, through her lashes and he catches her. They both blush and her eyes flit away._

 

_“You are beautiful.” He whispers and his breath fans the shell of her ear._

 

_The sensation feels so real that Jane presses her hand to her ear and lets out a soundless sob._

 

_“You just want to get lucky.” She says and she can feel the electricity of his smile. He tilts her chin up so she is forced to look at him. The look in his eyes terrifies her. She has seen it before on a different face, also familiar in a different way._

 

_“You still have no idea the effect you have.”_

 

_She doesn't know what that means._

 

_Her jaw fits perfectly in the palm of his hand._

 

_Her legs itch to run, to escape to the safety of outside. Where his skin can't set hers on fire._

 

_“What effect is that?” She whispers. His eyes flit back and forth and she can see his pupils grow fat, his eyes become dark._

 

_His hands tangle with her hair and pull her closer to him._

 

_Then he disappears from her like dust in the wind and she is left breathless and alone on the rooftop._

 

_She is trembling._

 

_Gasping._

 

_She whirls around half expecting him to be standing behind her. But his face is gone and so is his voice and she reaches out to the open air around her._

 

_She can feel the hot prick of tears behind her eyes. She is helpless. She is furious._

 

_“No!” She howls to the night. “No!” It sounds violent in the quiet._

 

_She feels the hot moisture spill down her cheeks and drip off her chin but it doesn't register that she is crying._

 

_“No.” She says, quiet this time, almost a whisper. “Come back.”_

 

_XX.XX_

 

_Darkness reigns._

 

_Jane walks the darkness and looks up at the neon lights around her. Emily stretches in her stomach, and Jane places a hand on her stomach to calm her._

 

_She pleads with the boy._

 

“ _Find me.”_

 

“ _Save her.”_

 

_XX.XX_

 

 

_Someone is beating on the door. Jane snaps awake, bleary eyed and grabs Annie, shoving her into the closet. Together they listen as Johanna flings the door open and begins to yell at the man at the door, telling him that Rue doesn't want to see him and to get off her doorstep and the cops are on there way._

 

_Jane can't breathe. She gasps for air as she cracks the door to watch the man shove passed Johanna and scream for Rue. The baseball bat glints in the moonlight. Annie whimpers next to her and Jane grabs her hand fiercely, willing her to be quiet and still._

 

_Rue screams and something in Jane curdles at the sound._

 

_Then the dull sound of flesh hitting flesh._

 

_Jane presses her hands to her lips to hold in her scream._

 

_Muffled yelling. Johanna snarls at the man. Annie is crying. Rue is achingly quiet._

 

_It's Cato, the hulking man is back and he makes a grab for little Rue, his hand wrapping all the way around Rue's forearm and he pulls, dragging her backward like she is a rag doll._

 

_Johanna lets out a feral noise from the back of her throat and suddenly the man goes still, his eyes narrowing at Rue who scrambles away from him backward on her hands and knees._

 

_“I told you not to come back here.” She says and her voice is lifeless, empty._

 

_The man slumps to the ground and Johanna's ax glints in the moonlight, the blade tinged red with blood._

 

_That's when Annie screams._

 

 


End file.
